The Unsatisfactory Story of Sammi Pyle
by Sabari
Summary: This is the story of a girl named Sammi Pyle, and the plethora of seemingly unrelated things that happened to her. Sometimes the most random chance occurrences are what wind up making a life real.
1. The Tragedy of the Ugly Rug

**Part 1: Babies Aren't Really Very Interesting**

" _If you notice exhaust flames inside your luggage or other forms of your child, stay seated with alcohol and press the accelerator pedal to move unexpectedly side to side."  
_ **-** _ **Markov Bot Ford Focus Manual**_ **(** _ **as read during**_ **Desert Bus for Hope 10)**

* * *

This is the story of a girl named Sammi Pyle. You may find this story unsatisfactory. But it really virtually almost happened, practically word for word (give or take a sentence here and there). If you don't like it, perhaps you should try having a story of your own, and tell it later once it has happened (or even if it merely almost sort of possibly might have happened) if that would satisfy you better.

Sammi's story begins with tragedy, as a great many stories do. The tragedy of an ugly rug, which is somewhat less common.

That is, of course, a complete fabrication. The part about beginning with the rug, that is. Sammi's story _actually_ begins in a small house on the outskirts of a very dense city called Bridgeport, which also happens to have a lot of very dense people living in it. She was not born in this house, nor even on the side of the bridge after which the usually sun-deprived city was named where this house sat. In fact, Sammi would spend the majority of the relevant part of her life on the other side of that bridge.

So what relevance could this little house Sammi never saw on the side of a bridge she never lived on have to Sammi's life?

Well... that's where the tragedy begins. And so too does our story...

* * *

Destiny is not something we get to choose, it is a thing which chooses us.

In the case of Sammi Pyle, destiny started throwing her curve-balls before she was even born. Griselda Pyle (Sammi's mother) didn't like children, and she didn't like art. She also didn't like work, cheap wine or city council member Jeffrey Cook. Really, it is much easier to describe the things which Griselda _did_ like than the things she didn't. Specifically, she liked dumpster diving, visiting the local bar, admiring herself in the mirror, and daydreaming about becoming senselessly rich someday.

Douglas Pyle (Sammi's father) did love children, so much so that it was often suggested the man was himself secretly a child, and he _did_ want a child. Thus, Sammi was conceived. Unfortunately, while Sammi's father enjoyed work and it was his life's dream to become an astronaut, Griselda was more interested in the llama mascot who came visiting one day while Douglas was out. Douglas returned home after signing up for the army to find Griselda making out with the college mascot.

As one might expect, Douglas was not exactly on board with this activity of his wife's, and he accused her of cheating. Both the aforementioned making out and the accusation which followed had a great deal to do with the untidy demise of their relationship.

Griselda moved out shortly thereafter, taking her naughty reputation with her on the road, and offending countless people along the way. Douglas stayed where he was, and that is -for the most part- the extent of his involvement in Sammi's life. What happened to him after Griselda left has been a subject of much debate. Did he succeed in becoming an astronaut? Did he remarry? Did he get kidnapped by aliens? Or did he merely eat jelly beans off a tree until he died? If one were to ask the Orb of Answers, they would get a busy signal or a recorded message about how the Orb was presently feeling, and that probably says quite a bit more about the fate of Douglas Pyle than anything else.

This is not a story about Douglas Pyle. It isn't really a story about Griselda Pyle either, but -to understand Sammi's life- one must know a bit about Griselda. Also, quite a lot of Sammi's early life was incredibly dull, and time was better spent documenting the behaviors of her mother than watching Sammi make little cooing sounds for no apparent reason and occasionally scream at 2AM because infants think that is an appropriate hour to have their breakfast.

It's possible Griselda never planned anything in her life. In any case, the only apartment Griselda during her pregnancy could afford was shamelessly cheap. It had a perpetually broken shower which only had two settings (ice cold and spraying water everywhere like it had aspirations of becoming a park fountain), and a treacherous stove that would eventually catch fire and cause the demise of several defenseless counters and an ugly brown rug.

It is necessary to understand that fire can start almost anywhere, any time, but it most favors beginning inside of stoves and scraptronic workbenches. Fire, left unchecked, is incredibly destructive and potentially lethal. The aforementioned future fire in Griselda's shabby brown-toned apartment would not be the last to affect Sammi's future. It was but the first in a succession of them, even though it was scheduled to occur prior to Sammi's birth. Of course, scheduling has to make room for reality, and the stove was a little late in ruining the ugly rug and counters. Just remember for later how important fire is, and never walk into a kitchen if it is entirely consumed by flames unless you are a firefighter.

The apartment was better than living far from the city, and certainly better than an empty lot, so Griselda made do. Besides, there was a mirror in the bathroom, so she could fulfill her favorite pastime by looking at herself in the mirror and admiring the rather heavy, dark eye makeup she loved.

Griselda spent most of her pregnancy rummaging through the dumpster behind a lounge she was not rich or famous enough to actually enter (except to use the bathroom, which she frequently did use because -though she loved rummaging- Griselda found trash disgusting). It was during one such dive that Griselda found and brought home the rug which was later to be finally put out of its misery and eventually laid to rest after being obliterated by the treacherous stove.

Even at the time she was rummaging behind the fancy lounge, Griselda had dreams of moving closer to a bar she would actually be allowed to see the inside of. She badly wanted some onion rings, and occasionally had dreams about them, when she wasn't dreaming about large piles of money. Griselda liked onion rings. She also liked the greasy food truck which usually parked near her favorite dumpster. Even if the lounge bouncers wouldn't let her in, Griselda never wanted for food with that truck nearby. Except that she _really_ wanted some nice bar food. Or even some bad bar food. Truthfully speaking, she just wanted bar food.

Unfortunately she was virtually penniless, and it wasn't long before the repo-man was threatening to confiscate her rug. It somehow seemed unlikely that locking the door and ignoring him would help. Griselda had also heard a rumor that the repo-man was capable of feats that were... _unnatural_ and that he could actually teleport at will to any location he wished. Griselda contemplated killing him with the unholy fly horde gathering on the dirty plates in her kitchen, but it was well known that the repo-van was like a clown car and repo-men traveled in great packs just like their less dangerous distant third or fourth cousins a couple of times removed, the gem hunting werewolves. There was no escape except to pay the bills. Griselda was terrified for her rug, and rummaged as she had never rummaged before.

She found the cure for her woes in the very bottom of the dumpster after she'd been digging all day, finding nothing but worthless roaches and a weird looking moth. What she found at last in the very bottom of the dumpster (where all of the best items eventually settled) was the most gorgeous television set she had ever seen. It took her a moment to grasp the reality of her find, and her joy was momentarily overshadowed by the trial of actually getting such a large, cumbersome object out of the dumpster.

It was a massive thirty-six inch plasma screen, the biggest she'd ever seen. With this television, she would finally be able to read the tiny print they used for recipes on the cooking channel, and see what those little seeds on the gardening channel looked like so she could recognize them for herself if she ever saw them. Of course, she didn't have a yard to garden in, and the stove allowed for little experimentation food-wise, but the lure of crystal clear picture was significant. She was certain the picture speakers in this TV were so good they wouldn't even induce a migraine if she watched more than half an hour of her favorite soap opera, _Romantic Rendezvous_.

All the way home, Griselda tried to figure out what she could sell that would allow her to keep the television. As she wracked her brains, it became clear that this television was worth more than every item she owned, even all put together. That was a bit disappointing.

It was just after dawn when Griselda finally managed to lug it the half mile to her house, cram it into the rickety elevator and make it up to the fifth floor. By then she was starving, so she decided to take a break and cook some waffles. This was a mistake.

Griselda hurriedly mixed the batter up for waffles. She ignored the green slime on the counter which was gradually becoming sentient because it had been allowed to flourish for so long as she swiftly transformed the batter mix in the bowl into little squares with neat syrup holding indentations and laid each waffle in the pan using nothing but a large wooden spoon. Flinging the pan into the oven, she railed against the universe because she was so hungry. She swayed slightly because she needed sleep. But nodding off and starving to death wasn't the cause of her downfall. That came in the form of labor pains and a frantic taxi ride to the hospital. Douglas may have been there but, if he was, he did not come home with Griselda (or if he did, she did not invite him into the apartment).

The stove continued to cook the waffles while Griselda had her first contractions. Warning smoke curled around the sides of the stove door as she began to scream at the doctors and nurses. An ominous flicker of orange danced behind the tempered glass while she told them about a beautiful television and how deeply terrified of the repo-man she was. As little Sammi first opened her bright eyes and looked into her mother's lovely face, the kitchen burst into flames.

The apartment building owner was wise enough to have a fire alarm installed, but the slow and perilous elevator ride delayed firefighters attempting to reach the kitchen, and it had been almost entirely engulfed in flames by the time they arrived. The stove, counters and ugly brown rug were history, but the precious television set was safe. The waffles, however, were ruined.

Arriving home to the smoked out kitchen and a fireman's lecture, Griselda knew that the television -no matter how desirable- had to go.

And so too had the apartment, as it was clearly a firetrap.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: This story is completely written. I will be uploading one chapter per day. This was written for my entertainment, and is being published for yours. If you find yourself not enjoying it, then you should feel perfectly free to stop reading._** **_Do feel free to point out typos; I check my stories before publishing, but I admit my imperfection and would welcome the opportunity to correct any mistakes I may have made._**

 _ **Special thanks (or blame) for this goes to the friend and sister-in-law who got me into Sims (first 2 and then 3) in the first place, my brother (who does not play Sims) and to the long suffering writer friend who -despite not playing Sims or understanding most of the references I made- was willing to give opinions on the various ideas I threw at her like water balloons.**_

 _ **Nobody panic, everything is fine. I merely have no idea what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy whatever this has turned out to be.**_


	2. What a Way to Make a Living

Despite fleeing her former life, Griselda couldn't quite escape her Great Aunt Ruth, who somehow managed not only to track down where Griselda had moved to in less than a day, but also knew that Griselda had given birth to a baby and even what that baby's name was.

Sammi's name resulted from the fact that her mother had wanted a boy. Precisely why Griselda cared what gender her child was when she didn't want a child of any sort to begin with is somewhat unclear. But that's neither here nor there, that is a seemingly irrelevant aside. Life has many of those.

Great Aunt Ruth had a beard and it felt weird, and Griselda had avoided her ever since her own mother had taught her how to walk; Griselda had even moved to a new town to finally be rid of the old bat (and also her mother, but it wasn't her mother who tracked her down to the second seediest apartment complex in Bridgeport in order to send her something in the mail). Great Aunt Ruth's love of children prompted her to mail a hideous, obviously patched together, brightly colored and completely offensive looking doll to baby Sammi.

Griselda considered throwing it out, but somehow just couldn't make herself put the doll in the trash, no matter how hard she tried. She also tried giving it to someone else (anyone would do), but that didn't take because nobody in the complex would accept gifts from a total stranger. Against her will, Griselda found herself placing the doll in the baby's crib, but resolved to find a more acceptable looking playmate for her daughter. But first she would have to find the nearest dumpster to look in because the move to a new apartment had strapped the new family of simoleons.

Griselda wanted to leave the baby behind at the apartment because having Sammi around distressed her in ways she couldn't explain, but she couldn't afford a sitter, and so was obliged to carry Sammi with her wherever she went. Finally, after much hard searching, Griselda finally found a dumpster in walking distance of her new apartment, which was situated right behind a dive bar. Dive bars, as most people know, will let anyone walk through their doors.

Waylon's Haunt was built in a formerly empty warehouse, because that had seemed like a good idea at the time. Almost nobody or any note ever seemed to come to it. The regular bartender had a completely impractical figure, hairstyle to match and normally wore extremely brief attire. 'The Haunt', as it was unaffectionately nicknamed, had a tiny dance floor, some decrepit musical instruments and served drinks (one of which was a big mistake that Griselda would eventually be drinking). One of its patrons was a young vampiress, whose bright red eyes fairly glowed with menace, and that made her well worth brawling with. Griselda eventually discovered that the Waylon's Haunt dumpsters were many, the drinks cheap, onions rings available to purchase and the toilets accessible. That was all Griselda needed from a bar.

When she first arrived, Griselda set Sammi down near the dartboard and went out to rummage. One of the first things she found was a teddy bear someone had thrown out. It wasn't just any bear though. This one was black and white, and wearing a kimono. Griselda gave the bear to Sammi to play with, hoping the child would bond with the aesthetically pleasing panda instead of whatever demon spawn that hideous doll happened to be an imitation of. One of Sammi's earliest memories was looking at the face of her bear with the black patches around its eyes and the dark eye shadow around her mother's and deciding that Mae Tsing (the name her mother gave the bear) looked an awful lot like her mother. Sammi named the doll Pyro because it was a name related to fire, and Griselda often theorized that Great Aunt Ruth probably had something to do with the treachery of the stove in addition to mailing her the doll. Pyro was a very apt name, though Sammi didn't know it at the time. Pyro, of course, didn't know anything. _Yet_.

From time to time while she waited by the dartboard in the bar, Sammi was visited by a strange woman in a gray dress, who would pick her up and snuggle her, then promptly leave the bar. The woman never ordered anything from the bar, and never talked to anyone inside. When she got older, Sammi could never find the woman, and often wondered if perhaps this was her Great Aunt Ruth.

* * *

One cool evening while Sammi was still an infant, Griselda took a drink that turned out to be a big mistake. For several hours after, she wildly danced with a stranger. Then she had the profound desire to start a brawl. Spotting a man she recognized as being on the city council, Griselda sprang into action.

"That is the ugliest suit I've ever seen," she told him, adding, "And your political opinions are even worse," then she slapped him.

A brawl ensued, and Griselda won. From then on, she kept watch for Jeffrey Cook and brawled with him every chance she got. This happened often, because Waylon's Haunt was Councilman Cook's favorite bar and he was there almost every night, ordering Morcubus Molotovs; brawls were therefore frequent and it was inevitable that Griselda would eventually declare Councilman Jeffrey Cook a nemesis.

He was the first, but far from the last.

Though everyone who visited the bar soon came to know Griselda and dread her picking a fight with them, it was not this -nor her habit of flailing around in the dumpster near the front door- that finally earned her some recognition around town. It was actually her one night of crazed dancing with TV acting sensation (and talentless hack) Kai Leiko that hit the headlines and made her a small time celebrity (though the bigger news was probably that Leiko deigned to set food in such a dive as Waylon's Haunt; drawing stares and raising questions about just what he'd been doing there and who that gorgeous brunette he was dancing with was).

Though Kai Leiko never again returned to the bar, and he and Griselda never saw each other again, that one night of uncontrolled dancing was enough to rocket Griselda Pyle to stardom. Or at least close enough that the local grocery gifted her a roll of towels, which she lovingly placed on the kitchen counter so she could look at them from time to time and remember her fifteen minutes of fame... or four hours of embarrassing dancing. Whichever.

It was also enough that -even though she could hardly ever get through the three people who were always nonstop ordering drinks at the bar during happy hour- she almost always got her onion rings for half price. Or maybe that was due to the fact that she beat up Jeffrey Cook three or four times a week. Though what anyone could have against the councilman is unclear, as the only things obviously wrong with him was that he consistently lost bar fights and fainted at the sight of Death.

Griselda's dumpster dives were soon quite legendary. She once dived for twelve hours straight, finding nothing but used Kleenex and moths until just about the end of the night, at which time she found a huge marble statue, then went into the bar, inhaled some hot wings and downed the most expensive drink she could afford, then showed off the gizmo she'd found under the victim of Medusa to several disinterested parties including the aforementioned vampiress.

"Look at this!" Griselda exclaimed, "It's a travel bidet!"

The vampiress did not look interested. In fact, she was downright rude about it.

"It looks to me like that is a rubber duck," the vampiress said.

"It's a travel bidet!" Griselda insisted.

"I'm pretty sure it's a duck."

"It. Is. A. Bidet!" Griselda shouted, and threw the travel rubber bidet duck at Jessica Talon.

They brawled as a result, with the vampire knocking the human soundly on her can. Unhappily, Griselda picked up her gizmo and left the bar.

After that, Griselda went home to have a shower (which then did its impression of a fountain; Griselda was not impressed by the impression) and consider the possibility that she might actually be moving up in the world.

But what she had actually done was anger the powerful vampiress known around the dive as Jessica Talon. The Lady Talon was not pleased to be sharing her territory with Griselda Pyle, a mere human, and a disruptive one at that. Anger burned in her reds eyes as she contemplated her revenge.

Of course, Griselda had forgotten all about The Lady Talon by the next morning. Jessica Talon was just another bar fight to Griselda (albeit one she had lost). But The Lady Talon was not accustomed to being challenged, and she did not like it. She would not tolerate it. Not for long.

The next time Griselda left Sammi by the dartboard, the Lady Talon picked Sammi up and played with her. But all the time, there was an evil glow in the eyes of the dark vampiress.


	3. Exact Change Only

There was remarkably little talking in Griselda's world, mostly just rude remarks nobody would remember later, and baby Sammi of course couldn't talk at all.

It was Sammi's good fortune that her mother was such a snobbish person. As much as she disliked children, it was beneath Griselda to have a daughter with inadequate skills, though perhaps it was merely a consequence of not liking to change diapers more than anything. When Sammi was old enough, Griselda stopped going to the bar and left off the dumpster diving long enough to teach Sammi all of the life skills she could think of, particularly the ones that would allow her to do things on her own, so that Griselda might be left alone. She really, really didn't like being around children.

Sammi was perfectly happy with the arrangement, as learning to talk really added something to playing with her doll, and she very much enjoyed the picture book her mother gave her which explained one of life's most confusing facts: squares aren't triangles. They just aren't. They never have been. They never will be. No matter what you do, squares will _never_ be triangles, even if you really want them to be. Even if you stop looking at them for awhile, then peek at them later, they will _still_ be squares. No matter how old you are, no matter how young you are, and no matter what job you may have or what cult you might see fit to join, the squares will still not be triangles. Because they are squares. That's how it is, that's how it's always been, and that's how it's going to be each time always forever and ever. Squares will continue to be squares. No matter what you do or where you go or what happens to you when you get there or how much you tip the fortune teller or how much you give to the Plan the Future Fund, the squares will still be squares and not triangles. It may not seem like it, but this is one of the most reassuring facts of life.

It was during this time that Griselda taught Sammi how to beg for a promotion, the basic concept of cash, the physical nature of musical notes and just how important it was to avoid city councilmen.

But when her mother inevitably went to take a cold shower, burn some waffles or watch TV, Sammi would redirect her energies to playing with her toys. She always had a special warm spot in her heart for Pyro that simply didn't exist for Mae Tsing. Maybe it was the Molotov stains on Mae, or possibly the fact that chewing on the panda's ear was just nowhere near as fun as gnawing on the plastic antenna that the doll had on its head. Whatever it was, Sammi began to bond with Pyro more and more. It seemed to her that maybe Pyro liked her too, since she could leave him anywhere and somehow he would show up on the floor next to her whenever she wanted to play with him. Next to the fact of squares not being triangles, Pyro's reliable ways were the most reassuring thing in the world.

Mae Tsing never came when Sammi called, and the bear was easy to put down somewhere and lose, especially for a youngster who could only toddle about ten feet before falling down and then forgetting what it was she'd been going to do three minutes ago. Pyro was simply more accessible and a better substitute for a teething ring than Mae.

Eventually, the siren song of waste-bin submergence became too powerful for Griselda to continue ignoring. Now that Sammi could walk, however, she spent less time near the dartboard, and instead roamed around the bar, trying to find some out of the way corner she could sit in and sing to Pyro. The other patrons had become so accustomed to Griselda's behavior that a toddler singing in the corner was hardly worth raising a ruckus over, so the off-key serenade mostly went ignored.

Despite occasionally being distracted by cheap drinks and greasy food and the fact that Councilman Cook persisted in coming to Waylon's Haunt no matter how often she beat him up, Griselda did have a method to her madness, and a purpose in mind. Specifically, she wanted to live in a nicer apartment. She wanted to finally have nice things. And she especially wanted a shower with hot water that didn't have delusions of fount-hood.

This was a distinctly realistic wish, even considering that Griselda's only real source of income came out of a trash bin; either because of lax garbage regulations or a city-wide rebellion against said regulations almost anything was possible to find in the dumpsters outside the bar.

After spending some time indoors during a rainstorm texting Jett Atkins (one of the few people she liked), an idea suddenly came to Griselda. She had found such extraordinary things in dumpsters and had such thrilling fights in the bar, and so many unusual interactions with perfect strangers that she found that she had a great deal to say on these many and obviously varied subjects.

It was time to start a blog.

Knowing her most distinctive trait, Griselda aptly named her blog _Hating Everything_. She would maintain the blog off and on whenever she thought of it for the rest of her life, earning her a grand total of 135 simoleons by the time of her demise. Clearly, she would never be able to live off her skill as a blogger. Still, she did dream big, and therefore harbored a long-term wish to be successful and famous for her blogging efforts. Unfortunately, there were only about thirty-five people interested in the ongoing misfortunes of Jeffrey Cook, and half a dozen who cared about the amazing, fantastic and unlikely things one could find in the dumpsters of Bridgeport.

As Sammi drew closer to the day she was to at last attend school, Griselda began to worry. She desperately wanted to send her child to boarding school. But she couldn't afford that if she combined the cost of it with the expense of a nice (or at least less seed-strewn) apartment, and so she decided to do the next best thing should could think of: she resolved to sign Sammi up for ballet class.

But even then Griselda's financial woes were not resolved. It turns out that digging through trash and writing a mediocre blog is no substitute for a real job. Griselda knew that she should move closer to the school so Sammi could always get there on time (she felt very strongly about Sammi getting a good formal education, if absolutely nothing else), but as the days passed, it became more and more apparent that Griselda would not be able to afford the move unless she miraculously found another fancy TV set in addition to selling most of their furniture and other belongings.

For some reason, it was a thin time in the dumpster, and it was looking more and more like Sammi would have many long bus rides in her future. This did not concern Sammi, because Sammi was a toddler, and toddlers are not typically concerned about money. Their primary difficulty in life is trying to scream loud enough to make their mother let them out of the crib first thing in the morning.

But as Sammi was enjoying her first slice of birthday cake ever, she began to have some vague... concerns. She noticed that her picture book had gone missing, along with her crib. But it didn't register until after the move... Mae Tsing was gone. Griselda hadn't had any choice. Nobody would buy Pyro, and she needed just 50 simoleons to get into the apartment she wanted.

Sammi didn't really miss Mae all that much, especially not when she suddenly found that she had a new, real imaginary friend in Pyro. One that walked, talked and would bring her juice if she asked nicely.

"Mommy, look! Pyro's alive!" Sammi announced.

Naturally, Griselda didn't want to hear anything about Pyro being alive, because she found him creepy enough just as a doll. She made some patronizing remark to the effect that Sammi shouldn't make up stories like that and then left for Waylon's Haunt.

Sammi didn't mind, because she had a friend who would celebrate her birthday with her.

That friend's name was Pyro, and he was to be her only friend for a long time. But, if a friend is good enough, one is all you really need. Sammi was content as she headed into the next, more exciting phase of her life, leaving infancy and toddler-hood in her rear view.

From then on, life got more complicated for Sammi.


	4. Snowpocalypse

**Part 2: Now is the Winter of Our Discount Tent**

" _I had a full stomach and an empty brain."_ **- _Crossing the Streams_** **(Loading Ready Live)**

* * *

It is an important but unpopular fact that -despite a multitude of claims to the contrary- not everyone's life is affected by the whims of weather in the same way. Never has this been more apparent than on what was supposed to be Sammi's first day of school.

It had snowed so heavily the night before that the school was buried much too deeply in the white fluff for anyone to get the doors open. Thus, school was canceled for the day.

Griselda went to the bar as ever, because nobody was going to let a little snow prevent them from being there at happy hour, and the regular patrons dug out the doors or climbed in through open windows to get in. Waylon's Haunt was in no appreciable way affected by the snowpocalypse.

The Haunt wasn't the only place people were determined to get into. The library, not far from the school, had been dug out by dedicated book-lovers who were unwilling to go even one day without access to their favorite (and only) library. Blizzards be damned, they were going to read _Ode to Science_ , _How to Spin Plates_ or _Hotel Diavolo_ : _Hell's Bellhops_ if it was the last thing they ever did.

Sammi decided that her time would be better spent at the library than around the house.

"I'm going to the library instead of staying home today, Pyro," she told the friend only she could see, but everyone else could somehow sense enough not to step on.

"Take me with you?" Pyro asked hopefully.

"Not today, Pyro. I need to learn things, not just have tea parties," Sammi replied.

"Please don't go," Pyro was saying while they rode down to the lobby together in the elevator, "I don't want you to go. We could pillow fight if you stayed home."

"No, Pyro. I don't want to pillow fight right now," Sammi said, stepping out of the elevator quickly to avoid being caught by the doors as they shut like the jaws of a snapping turtle behind her.

Pyro had to wait for them to open again before he could slip out. He high-stepped to catch up with Sammi, but she had decided to go to the library, despite his protests.

"Look, Pyro, I may not be able to go to school, but that doesn't mean I can't learn things. I want to learn things. A lot of things. You just stay here, okay?"

He said nothing.

The curious thing about the magic which linked Pyro to the world was that it was limited. He could leave the apartment, follow her down the drive, but was stopped at the street, watching in distress as Sammi left him behind. When she left, so did the magic which made him live. No wonder he was so upset that she was leaving him. Without Sammi, Pyro could not be, and so he was not.

There exists in the universe a pocket dimension, or perhaps several pocket dimensions. Though really it's more of a dimensional walk-in closet or industrial-sized garage. Various large, cumbersome or otherwise inconvenient objects are stored in this garage. Bridgeport citizens who don't have a dresser or wardrobe routinely store clothes in it. Other pocket dimension items include: brushes, hammers, saddles, chainsaws, pickaxes, diplomas, dishes, mixing bowls, pots, pans and pencils. There is even a theory which suggests that Orphanages, Boarding Schools, Animal Shelters and the Llama Man all reside in this alternate dimension. People of different ages, personality types and abilities can reach different areas of the pocket dimension. For instance, it is passively accepted by everyone as utterly normal for any child in any town or city to summon a bicycle out of nowhere and pedal away.

This is what Sammi did.

The physics going on in refrigerators is a whole different kettle of onions from the dimensional pocket-closet-garage. This really shouldn't be surprising. Most people simply don't store their socks in the same place as they store their plasma fruit. But that's neither here nor there.

On reaching the library, Sammi was disappointed by the selection on the educational bookshelf. Not even a section, just a single shelf near the entrance, offering education in subjects way over her head. Wandering around the library, Sammi found a room off to the side with something more her speed: a table with colorful blocks on it. She decided that, if she couldn't be educated, she might at least enjoy it.

After playing with the blocks for several hours, Sammi began to feel a bit peckish. Checking the time, she knew that her mother would still be at the bar. Sammi wasn't tall enough to use the stove at home, and she really didn't think a box of juice would do, even though she'd love it if Pyro fetched one for her. She wanted something just a little bit more substantial.

It was as she was pondering whether or not she could get away with visiting the local diner without making her mother angry that Sammi noticed a little stove sitting in the corner of the playroom. On closer inspection, she found that the toy stove actually worked. Maybe she couldn't fix herself pancakes or bake a cake, but muffins were certainly a possibility.

That blueberry muffin she made was just the way to stave off hunger. It wasn't an especially bad muffin, but it also wasn't a very good muffin. It was just... well... a muffin. Still, the possibilities began to form in Sammi's mind, and she resolved to try the other recipes written on the inside of the stove.

After washing the dish she'd used in the sink in the library restroom, Sammi returned the plate to the part of the pocket dimension from whence it had come and then went back to her blocks. She wished she had a toy like this at home so she could show it to Pyro. Somehow, she was certain he would love playing with the blocks, though she wasn't sure why she knew that.

She resolved to tell Pyro all about her library experience when she got home. But that was not to be.

Griselda was already at home when Sammi arrived, and paused in her salad making to give Sammi a lecture and then patronize her, before continuing to toss the salad. Sammi wasn't overly hurt by the exchange (partially because she didn't entirely understand what being patronized meant yet).

"It's time for me to go home," Pyro announced after he'd sprung to life.

Sammi wasn't sure what Pyro was talking about, and he didn't leave, so she decided maybe he was just expressing his irritation at having been left behind, so she ignored the comment.

"How was your day, Pyro?" Sammi inquired.

"BORING," Pyro replied, "Nothing happened. I just sat by that bed your mom got and did nothing. Sammi, I hate it when you're not here, everything just stops when you're gone."

"Well, I'm sorry your day was bad. Maybe tomorrow will be better," Sammi said, and gave him a hug.

That seemed to brighten Pyro up considerably.

It was then that Sammi noticed the new bunk-bed. It had a wood frame with dark blue sheets and looked moderately more comfortable than the metal frame cot Griselda had been sleeping on when Sammi was still in the crib. Griselda claimed the bottom bunk, so Sammi climbed up into bed (getting an uncomfortably close look at the chandelier on the ceiling), and went to sleep. She dreamed she was an astronaut. It was a good dream to have.

Griselda had purchased the bunk-bed because the apartment was clearly too small to comfortably accommodate multiple beds _and_ a television set, so a bunk bed seemed the best solution. The only flaw in the plan was that dratted doll, which Sammi had left lying on the floor next to the bed.

Griselda moved it to the other side of the room but in the morning it had somehow mysteriously returned to its spot right at the base of the bunk-bed's ladder, almost like a dog waiting at the door for his master to return home from work.

"Horrid thing," Griselda whispered harshly to it.

It did not respond, of course. It just sat there, being ugly as a rug.


	5. A Fortuitous Elevator Malfunction

One might wonder how an impaired elevator can be a good thing, yet it was purely happenstance and a fortuitous elevator malfunction that made Griselda Pyle a minor hero late one evening when she was returning from a routine dumpster dive after Waylon's Haunt closed for the night.

Sammi had again been thwarted from attending school by an untimely blizzard, but she had braved the dismal weather on her bicycle to play with the blocks and make more muffins at the library. It is perhaps worth mentioning that Sammi was not selfish with her muffins, and in fact shared them with several people at the library, including one Jessica Talon, a vampiress with whom Griselda had once picked a fight. Lady Talon was not normally a very friendly individual, but something about a well-made vanilla muffin took down her usual defenses and she opened up to young Sammi. Sammi didn't so much remember Jessica, as she just had never entirely forgotten Lady Talon.

"Yes, I think I will try one," Jessica said in her rough, but not unpleasant voice, and the tips of her fangs just showed as she added, "Thank you."

They sat down at one of the tables school students normally used for studying.

"Vampires don't usually eat muffins, do they?" Sammi asked.

"Not unless the recipe substitutes plasma fruit for blueberries," Jessica replied, her throaty voice becoming more welcoming as they conversed, "But I just couldn't resist the offer. I've been smelling your muffins since yesterday, and the temptation was just too much to ignore."

"I didn't know you were here yesterday," Sammi said.

"I am everywhere," the Lady Talon said, somewhat cryptically, "So, child, what are you dreams? Surely a bright girl such as yourself has a wish for her life?"

In Bridgeport, this question is roughly the equivalent of asking a person what grade of school they were in or what their favorite school subject is.

"I want to be an astronaut!" Sammi blurted, "I had a wonderful dream last night, and I decided that's what I want to be just this morning!"

"An astronaut!" the Lady Talon exclaimed, "Why, I joined the military because that's what _I_ wanted. I started dreaming about it when I was... oh, probably only a little older than you. Unfortunately I'm not very good with broken sinks and clogged toilets."

"Oh? I would've thought you'd need to read some of those heavy books about astrology or something."

"No, child. Just become very athletic, and handy with plumbing and electrical devices. If only my play room had had something like that lovely set of blocks here at the library, I would be ever so much better suited to the military."

"The blocks?" Sammi asked, wide-eyed.

She was really quite astonished. The Lady Jessica Talon was beautiful, powerful and shared Sammi's fondest dream of visiting space. Sammi had thought she would need to play a lot of chess and pray her mother found a telescope in all that rummaging she did, but the Lady Talon indicated otherwise. Strength and agility were far more necessary, as was an understanding of S-pipes and television cables. Sammi was glad to have met Jessica, because it saved her from wasting a lot of time reading those tedious looking logic books on the educational shelf.

"Well, I had better get back to reading _Why Do Vampires Suck?_ , so I can properly insult the author's intelligence. Cole Stoker has clearly never even met a vampire before, and he needs to be set straight about a few things," she paused thoughtfully, "Why, maybe I can even declare him a nemesis."

She smiled and strolled away. Sammi wondered how anyone could be happy about declaring someone else their nemesis. That seemed like a very sad situation for everybody.

Instead of thinking it through, Sammi got busy working with the blocks. Before, she had just sort of been piling them on top of each other (and not very efficiently at that), but now she worked with a will. It was unclear to her exactly how playing with blocks would help her in future, but she was determined that it would... somehow. She decided that she should try to construct a visual representation of a rocket's engine with the blocks. That seemed the best use of her time.

Unbeknownst to Sammi, Jessica Talon did not go to read _Why Do Vampires Suck?_ (nor even _The Vampire Blogs_ ), but instead left the library and went to Waylon's Haunt, and there she found Griselda digging through trash as usual. Catching sight of one of her rivals, Griselda climbed out of the dumpster and put up her fists without so much as a word, ready to do battle with the vampire who stood as the only patron of the bar to ever beat her in a brawl. Jessica Talon was only too eager to oblige.

Had she been there, Sammi would have been most distressed to see her mother and new friend fighting, but Sammi was busy attempting to construct a fuselage out of bricks and was blissfully unaware of the venomous hatred that Griselda harbored towards the fire-hearted Jessica.

Unfortunately, passionate loathing is not in itself sufficient to win a fight, and Griselda lost this brawl just as she had the one before. Worse still, the fight took so long that the bar was about to close by the time it was finished. Griselda had just enough time to scarf down some onion rings and a Molotov before being clumsily and hastily shooed out by the bartender.

Sammi had gone home by then, and was actually in bed asleep while Griselda was still in the process of trying to hail an exceptionally swift taxi. It was a good thing the taxi driver was so reckless, because it meant that Griselda arrived at the apartment in time to see a burglar sneaking through the lobby doors. Griselda ran after the burglar, but she (the burglar, that is) stepped into the elevator before Griselda could stop her. Griselda knew she could run up the stairs and beat the elevator to its destination, but as she'd already been defeated in a fight recently Griselda decided that discretion was the better part of valor and she bravely called the cops.

On the top floor, the burglar seemed well on her way to stealing right from Griselda and Sammi's apartment. That was when the elevator malfunctioned.

As the burglar was slipping through the open doors, the elevator sensors failed it and the doors tried to slam shut. The burglar was caught in the sliding doors and still struggling to free herself by the time Policeman Rohan Verma arrived. Griselda was thrilled to watch a real fight between burglar and cop, and she found the latter to be very attractive. Rohan was far too busy battling the burglar to pay any attention to Griselda at first. Even when he did finally acknowledge Griselda, it was simply to assure her of what she already knew; the burglar had taken nothing from the apartment.

"I'm sorry, the burglar got away," Rohan told her.

"You lama glama!" Griselda spat, "You had her, and you let her go. I saw you!"

"Well, technically, she hadn't even broken in yet," Rohan shrugged.

"Oh go away! A dog would protect my house better than you could."

"Then maybe you should get one!" Rohan snapped back.

"Maybe I will!" Griselda marched into her apartment and slammed the door behind her.

She had no intention whatsoever of getting a dog of course, but it sure felt good to tell off that cop. How dare he be so attractive and completely useless? Ugh, calling him had been a waste of time. Griselda went into the bathroom and took the angriest shower of her life, then promptly passed out asleep on the bathroom floor.

Sammi slept through the entire thing, dreaming of space and little green men and stackable blocks and the possibility of making a delicious chocolate cookie tomorrow after school.

However, the snowpocalypse continued, and there wasn't any school the next day, nor the day after, nor even the day which followed the day after. It was then that Sammi began to think that maybe she was just destined to have bad luck her whole life. This seemed especially likely when Jessica Talon failed to show up at the library and Sammi burned muffins three times in a row.

Perhaps she might not have thought herself so unlucky had Griselda told her about the burglar. But Griselda and Sammi seldom talked, mainly because Griselda was always still asleep when Sammi left for the library and Sammi was likewise asleep when Griselda returned from Waylon's Haunt.

Pyro was always at home, even though every night around bedtime he'd tell Sammi in no uncertain terms that he was going to leave, that it was time for him to go and that he was heading home. He never did, of course, because he couldn't, but his displeasure at Sammi's always leaving him behind was quite obvious to her. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could really do about it except try to brighten her imaginary friend's day before she left and asking him how his day went when she got back.

She hated to do that if Griselda was around though, because her mother would make gestures indicating she thought Sammi was absolutely bonkers, and Sammi didn't appreciate that much.

When Griselda blogged about the attempted robbery, _Hating Everything_ soared to new heights of popularity. All of half a dozen people loved the story, and one even gave Griselda money for it.


	6. A Bird in Civic Plaza

As was made clear by the burglar and fluke elevator incident, things were changing in the city. Apartments were getting burglarized more and more, and Griselda was beginning to think that maybe being so close to a dive bar wasn't the great decision it had seemed like back at the end of the fall.

Certainly living near the school hadn't paid off, as the snowpocalypse continued unabated and school remained canceled indefinitely due to snow, and Griselda was tired of getting stuck in unreliable elevators or climbing four flights of stairs to reach her bed when she came stumbling home after a day of diving. And anyway having the kitchen, living room and bedroom all be in the same room was definitely losing its charm, particularly when Griselda wanted to watch television in the middle of the night. Not only that, but Griselda wanted to have a car. She was sick of taking the subway, and worrying about which lurking shadow might secretly be a mugger just waiting to take what little she had. There was no place for renters to put a car at their current apartment.

One afternoon, when Griselda woke up, she tallied up the amount of money she had made selling junk and trash and knickknacks and set out to look for a house. She had a very specific criteria: she had to be able to afford it. Her hope was to finally have a room she could be in that didn't also have Sammi in it, but she knew that might be too much to ask for. Still, Griselda had never forgotten the days before she had a child, and she missed having her own bed and being able to watch TV at any time of day or night without waking anyone up.

Besides, Sammi would have to learn to drive at some point, and that meant a car was needed.

While Sammi was at the library, Griselda contacted the realtor and quickly found a suitable home. She couldn't afford any of the two bedroom houses available in or around the city, but she could afford a little yellow house just up the hill from the school, located at 2097 Edgewood Road. Griselda thought the realtor was being a little over zealous in their assertion that the house was so beautiful that she (the realtor) just couldn't believe it wasn't a buttercup. The realtor also repeatedly reminded Griselda that the house was near the school and you really almost couldn't see the graveyard up the hill from the front door. To her, the house looked just like a house and very little like a buttercup, and she found that almost not being able to see the graveyard was really quite a lot like being able to see the graveyard.

But she bought the place anyway.

She left a message on Sammi's phone, telling her where they had relocated to. Despite leaving the objectionable little doll from Great Aunt Ruth next to the trash when she left, Griselda was not especially surprised to find it sitting by the front door by the time she finished moving the family's few worldly possessions into their new abode. She had come to accept that there was simply no escaping the hateful thing. It was just always going to be there, its eyes watching every move she made.

The downside of moving and having to buy new, separate beds was that Griselda could only afford the cheapest rattletrap vehicle available. She tried painting the used jalopy red, but that didn't do a great deal to increase its aesthetic appeal.

In the meantime, Sammi decided to simply walk home. She wasn't sure how she felt about a new house, being as she'd never lived in a house before. The idea sort of scared her, so instead she thought about how good at every recipe the toy oven had to offer she had gotten, and that she couldn't think of anything new to do with the blocks, so there really wasn't a point in staying at the library anymore. But she also wasn't in a hurry to go home and be patronized some more, nor did she especially want to pillow fight with Pyro, whom she knew would be waiting by the door for her when she got home, eager to do just that.

She had tried explaining to him that they could do other things, like play tag, but he always wanted to pillow fight. In fairness, they were using pocket-closet-garage dimension pillows instead of ruining the few they had for the beds, but still... Griselda was not fond of the feathers flying everywhere.

Sammi was also wondering just what she would do with Pyro. She knew that, sooner or later, the long winter snows would _have_ to end, and then she would be at school all day. It was also clear that Griselda was eager to have Sammi become a star, because she encouraged Sammi almost daily to improve her skills as a dancer and to try new makeup and hairstyles, and practice greeting people.

If Sammi was to please her mother and build the skills necessary to achieve her own dreams as well, there would be very little time left over to play with Pyro.

It was as she was considering this problem that Sammi noticed something small floundering in the snow in front of the Public Service Offices. The Public Service Offices was an imposing structure, despite being one of the smaller buildings in Bridgeport. It seemed to loom over her as Sammi drew near, and she had always avoided it before, largely because her mother had admonished her that only terrible people like Jeffrey Cook were in that building.

Sammi looked away from the building, and instead kept her attention on the civic plaza in front of it. She was watching for more movement in the snow. As she got closer, she realized the thing in the snow was gray. She wondered if it was a cat or maybe even a puppy. She wouldn't mind having a pet like that, and she was fairly certain Griselda wouldn't either. After all, there was a cat at Waylon's Haunt that Sammi remembered from when Griselda left her there as a toddler, and it seemed to her that she Griselda often let the animal lick the last of the grease off a plate of hot wings.

But when she reached the spot, what Sammi found wasn't a stray cat or unwanted puppy, but a lost bird, specifically a parrot. It was a somewhat disappointing find, as there didn't really look to be anything special or especially exciting about it. Still, it was obviously cold and probably hungry as well. Bridgeport was not the native land of African Grey Parrots, and this little fellow was either lost or abandoned, Sammi didn't know which.

"Come on," she encouraged while the bird flopped sadly in snow, "Come onto my arm, I'll take you home. It's warmer there. Come on, boy. Or are you a girl? Would it offend you if I called you a boy?"

The bird cocked its head and crackled its beak. Then, hesitantly, it slowly climbed up onto her arm.

"That's a boy. What a good boy," she tried to pet the bird.

She thought petting was a good reward because she'd seen people do that when their dog or cat came when called, but the parrot didn't approve of that and bit her. Hard.

"Ouch! No, that's mean!" She scolded the bird.

The parrot just cracked its beak at her again and squawked. Oh well, maybe it was just grumpy because it was cold and hungry and probably tired. This was a miserable place to be, there was no shelter or food or anything. She couldn't imagine what could have attracted the bird to here to begin with.

As she put the parrot under her coat to keep it warm, an idea began to form.

If she could teach the bird to talk, maybe it would be good company for Pyro while she was gone. She was also sure her mother would approve of Sammi practicing her speech by talking to the bird. After all, Griselda really wanted Sammi to improve her charisma, and often bemoaned the fact that Sammi was too young to do so. Maybe teaching the bird to talk would help her pick it up faster later on.

When Sammi got home, Griselda wasn't exactly thrilled to find out there was another mouth to feed. But they set up a perch for the bird and it happily hopped onto it and ate without complaint the chop they had learned to prepare for it by searching the web.

Sammi decided to name the bird Kyo, because she had read somewhere that it meant capitol city, or possibly cooperation. Either way, it seemed an decent name, as caring for the bird was the first activity Sammi and Griselda had ever had in common. Sammi also hoped to achieve the bird's cooperation in keeping Pyro company while she was at school.

Kyo, of course, had ideas of his own, but Sammi didn't realize that yet.


	7. A Bar Full of Stars

Kismet is a word meaning 'fate' or 'destiny'. It is the sort of word you might happen to learn if you were to take a class to improve your writing, or if you happened to get on the computer in the library and look at an online thesaurus. It is probably a word Sammi was well familiar with by the time she entered high school, not only because she had spent a great deal of time on the library computer but also because it always seemed that kismet was at work in her life wherever she looked.

It seemed that mere chance had led Sammi to find Kyo the parrot that cold winter day as she was walking home. But long hours of trying to get the bird to talk had given her practice at careful and clear speech. The bird had to hear her clearly and she had to be consistent or he wouldn't get it. It seemed hard to believe that teaching a parrot about Leisure Day, balloons, clowns and the migration patterns of Monarch Butterflies would really help that much when Griselda signed Sammi up for drama club, but it put her way ahead of most of the other students.

Sammi wanted to be signed up for shop class to help her improve her ability with machinery, but Griselda decided that debate club was more important. After all, if Griselda had learned to properly debate in high school, maybe she'd have won more of those arguments about gnubb with bartenders. Griselda wanted Sammi to be successful, but also smart, mostly because those were opportunities she herself had missed or ignored. And so Sammi went to drama and debate clubs. It seemed at first as if the latter was merely a waste of time, but as she improved, an idea began to take shape. And not a triangle shape, either, nor a square, but something else, something special. Perhaps something like magic.

Unfortunately, the increased distance to the bar meant Griselda was home less than ever, and so Sammi could share her ideas only with Pyro. She tried sharing her ideas with Kyo, but after spending a few hours conversing about flying versus literal flies and the similarities of cats and yetis as well as the importance of having a blast and not eating trash, it became evident that parrots simply aren't meant to deal in logic.

Despite her mother's evident indifference, Sammi was more interested than ever in trying to maintain their relationship. Unfortunately, that meant visiting The Grind, a dance club. Griselda still preferred Waylon's Haunt, but The Grind was somewhat closer to their new home and Griselda had a special fondness for glow goo and neon breeze, two of the drinks exclusive to the club.

Sammi was a good dancer, despite never having attended ballet class, but there were many venues she would have rather been in than the noisy dance club. The Grind was full of would-be actors and aspiring directors, and it was soon obvious that Griselda was talking to them to try and get them interested in Sammi. Griselda saw becoming an actress as the height of success. There was so much glamor and money in the occupation if you could make it, and fame would get you into the finest of bars and lounges and clubs, which was the highest form of success in Griselda's mind.

It didn't seem to matter that Griselda's idea of success wasn't the same as Sammi's. Of course, Sammi rarely said anything, because she wanted to get along with her mother. No matter how obvious it was that the stupid travel bidet was really a rubber duck, Sammi always politely oohed and aahed over it as if she'd never seen it before. She danced with film extras who hoped that someday a director would notice them, and key grips who had dreams of becoming the next Matthew Hamming.

"He's just... he's so... so... _Hamming_ ," a best boy explained to her one evening after he'd had a few, "And that's _great_. He even gave me an autograph once, and..." here the best boy paused and hiccuped a few times, "I think he might even know I exist. Isn't that great? I'm really... um... really... on... on my way to... to the... um... you wanna dance?"

Sammi did not want to dance, but she didn't say so. She also didn't tell him how she felt about Matthew Hamming. Her opinion was based solely on what she had heard about him, being as she'd never met him, but everyone else had formed their opinion without meeting him, so that did not appear to be a requirement.

Though he had only ever gotten supporting roles in movies, Hamming was famous for directing _Prison for Dogs._ Hamming had played supporting character to the main protagonist (a dog) and was now rumored to be working on writing a prequel in which Hamming's character (Esmond Schrimshaw) would finally be taking the lead role. Sammi thought Hamming was a putz and the way dogs were portrayed in _Prison for Dogs_ was absolutely shameful (and the movie's plot utterly idiotic), but she was too nice to say so. Fortunately, the best boy had to run off to the bathroom before she lost her patience with him.

The more time Sammi spent around her mother, the less she liked her. Griselda enjoyed chatting with all the low budget actors and bad screenplay writers, but she was a real lama glama to just about everyone else. What really tore it was when Sammi saw Griselda get into a fight with Jessica Talon.

When the Lady Talon stepped into The Grind, Griselda immediately abandoned her drink (and the production manager she had been chatting up at the bar) to engage her hated nemesis.

"You!" Griselda said, "You have a lot of nerve, showing your fanged face around here! Get out!"

Of course, everyone already knew the Lady Talon was a vampire, but it was extremely rude to talk about it as Griselda was doing. Worse still, she followed this with a remark about Lady Talon's mother which set off the fight, technically initiated by the Lady Talon. Sammi knew there was no preventing a brawl, and also that nobody was likely to be seriously injured. Still, she just didn't want to see the outcome. So she went home.

When she got home, Sammi found Pyro waiting for her.

"Pyro, mom just got into a fight with Jessica Talon," Sammi announced.

"Really?" Pyro didn't sound at all interested, and began to yawn when Sammi attempted to describe the incident in detail, "Would you like to have a pillow fight?"

Sammi gave up and turned to Kyo for sympathy.

"I can't believe mom would do that!" Sammi told the attentively listening bird, "She even called Jessica's mother a chupacabra! Can you believe that, Kyo?"

"Music equals flowers," replied Kyo conversationally.

"I'm just so mad at her right now, just... so embarrassed! My mother did that, not some stranger, _MY_ mother!"

Kyo cocked his head to the side, and then made a comment about drinks that make people feel wide awake. That kind of remark does not bear repeating.

Sammi wasn't pleased by the implication and turned her back on Kyo. She was so upset that she rejected Pyro's second invitation to pillow fight and told him to go away. Hurt by this, Pyro retreated to the mystical realm from whence he had come. Sammi looked at the doll which was left behind, then shrugged and put it in her pocket before going to bed.

That night, Sammi dreamed about going on a date. It was a strange dream, because it didn't involve the boy from school that she liked. Instead, it had a handsome boy, a boy with the brightest, most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen, and a slightly goofy-looking mop of purple hair with red tips. Sammi had previously dreamed of attending prom with her crush, but that dream felt farther from reality, like a fantasy. This one seemed... real. Almost.

"I am meant for you, Sammi," the boy said to her, his eyes gazing deep into hers, "I always was."

When she woke up the next morning, she checked the family funds and bought a chemistry set. Because it was a Saturday, she was able to set to work immediately. She was so involved in this that she forgot to apologize to Pyro (though she did feed Kyo and briefly discussed butterflies with him).

She didn't even notice that Griselda hadn't come home the night before...


	8. No Dryer is Worth It

It is written that "A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky -unbidden- and seems like a thing of wonder". What wasn't written down is that when it hails, people should go inside.

After The Grind closed down, Griselda was still too proud to go home and face Sammi. She knew Sammi was upset over what she had done, but she was not prepared to apologize. Instead, she decided to console herself by visiting Waylon's Haunt. It wasn't open yet, but she figured she could just dumpster dive for a few hours until either she felt better or the bar opened.

What she didn't bet on was how cold it was. Spring had sprung, and the snow had all melted, but a sudden cold snap plunged the temperature down to freezing. It even began to hail. Griselda noticed, but ignored it. Darkness and cold was typical of Bridgeport, and she wasn't about to let the weather dictate her plans for her. Griselda hadn't let Bridgeport's bad weather stop her all winter, and she certainly wasn't going to let it affect her now that it was spring. No, she wasn't even going to put on a coat. It was spring and she was going to wear seasonally appropriate attire, whatever the weather had to say about it. She just ducked her head and kept rummaging.

There are a great many things which happen to people over which they have absolutely no control. For instance, Griselda could not control the weather, even locally. What she _could_ control was putting on a coat or going inside. She didn't even have to go home. She could go to the 24/7 gym, or take a tour of the Landgraab Marine Science Facility, or get a massage at the spa (she'd earned enough selling moths to the aforementioned science facility to afford a quick massage anyway).

But she was at war with the weather, and too stubborn to admit she was losing.

A truly staggering number of arguments are won every day with pure emotion and no sense at all. But spite is not something which affects weather in any meaningful way. Weather is rather like a vampire in that way. Something more powerful than emotion is required to beat it. This is perhaps the only similarity between vampires and weather. Then again, perhaps not.

Griselda was getting colder as the hours passed, and it was beginning to have an effect on her mood. But she had it in her head that -if she just kept digging- she was sure to find something in the dumpster that would beat everything she had found previously. Something truly amazing was in there, she just knew it, and she wasn't going to let the weather or anyone else prevent her from reaching her goal.

There was something metallic and red down there, and she was digging right for it, even as her teeth began to chatter. The cold was really getting to her, but she was not going to admit defeat, not with that large red object finally beginning to come into view. It was something she had thought about during almost every dumpster dive, but never had she been able to afford even the cheapest of its kind (at least not unless she did with far fewer drinks at the bar). Now it was almost in reach.

But, just as she placed her hand upon the coveted object, the weather took its final toll. The wind threw her out of the dumpster and she fell down on the pavement, too cold to even move. As the ice crept into her veins, she realized the depth of the mistake she had made.

She had spent her time building a life of isolation. She had ridiculed and made enemies of almost everyone she met, written a blog inspired by her hate of various people, places and things, and she had been too proud to ever contact Douglas and tell him she had made a mistake in cheating on him with a Llama Man and that she actually wanted to get back together with him. Did he even know Sammi had been born? All the seasons that had come and gone, and the only thing Griselda had to show for it in the end was a daughter she did not love and an expensive clothes dryer she could not use.

The Grim Reaper arrived as Griselda's spirit arose and floated over her frozen body

"Please, please," Griselda begged, "I don't want to die. I want to live, please!"

The Grim Reaper gazed at her coldly, black as death and twice as terrifying.

In a voice like frozen thunder, he replied, "I have seen how you spend your time, Griselda Pyle. I have seen all the wasted hours and days. I have known you from the beginning of your time, and your time is now at its end. There is nothing you can offer, no promise you can make I would believe. It is your time now, and it is now that you shall go."

Griselda had spent all her time making enemies, and now there was not so much as an alley cat who would come to her defense.

"But I haven't done anything! Why me?!" Griselda demanded.

"If you have wasted your life, do not blame me. It was not I who left you out to freeze, that you did to yourself. It was not I who made you alone, your own selfishness and cruelty brought you here. I know you, Griselda Pyle, and you have squandered every gift life has ever offered. Now go."

He pointed to the ground. There was no arguing with the Grim Reaper. He told her to go, and so she went. With a wave of his hand, he conjured for her an appropriate headstone, and engraved for her an epitaph which read, "Here lies Griselda Pyle, passionate brawler and beloved trash panda".

Despite her protests, had Griselda been able to chose where and how she died, this was probably the death she would have wanted. Surely she would have approved of the epitaph.

* * *

Back at home, it finally hit Sammi that something was wrong. She was beginning to get worried when suddenly her phone began to ring. Checking the caller ID, Sammi found herself answering the phone to a stranger named Douglas Pyle.

"Hello?" she said

" _Hello, Sammi. You don't know me yet, and I know I've never called before. But... well, I have some bad news for you,"_ the voice sounded almost like a masculine version of her own, and her heart beat just that little bit faster, _"Sammi? Can you hear me?"_

"Yes," she answered, "Who are you?"

" _That doesn't matter right now, honey. What matters is... well... I need to tell you about Griselda. About your mother,"_ he didn't have to continue, even though he did; Sammi understood.

Sammi dropped the phone, heard it crack against the floor. But she didn't care. The world blurred before her eyes and then she screamed.

"Sammi?" Pyro's voice seemed distant, unreal, "Sammi, are you alright? Sammi?"

She felt the velvety softness of her imaginary friend hugging her tight, but she shoved him off, tears running down her face.

"Sammi?"

"Go away, Pyro," she gasped.

"Sammi, please."

"GO AWAY!"

The silence that followed was absolute for a beat, but then she could hear that voice still on the phone, speaking her name with increasing concern. She hung up the phone and wept alone.

Griselda's death left Sammi with nothing but a house she could not afford, a junkie old car, an imaginary friend, a large bird with a predilection for biting, and an expensive red clothes dryer she couldn't even use because she had no washing machine.

She was signed up for after school clubs she didn't like, and already had unwanted ties to the film industry, no means of income and two lovely dreams which had been completely shattered.

A dryer's worth is measured in simoleons, but there exists no currency in this universe or any other which can truly measure the value of even the most wasted life.


	9. Junkie & Distressed

**Part 3 – Get Into the Sea**

" _We think we know what we are doing. We have always thought so." -_ _ **Prey**_ **(Michael Crichton)**

* * *

"I don't know what the police thought they were accomplishing, bringing me back here. It's not like either of you can make me stay, and the worst they can do is make me ride in a squad car."

Pyro glanced at Kyo, but the bird didn't return the look (because, of course, Kyo couldn't see Pyro) and instead Kyo chirped something rather vague about yetis, fire and loud noises.

"It's the law, Sammi," Pyro said, "They only enforce it."

"The law is stupid," Sammi spat, "I'm in just as much danger of being burglarized here as being mugged in the subways. And, besides, I was out at a club."

Pyro just gave her a look that suggested he didn't believe that was any safer.

"Jessica was there," Sammi told him, "She'd take care of any dangerous thug types."

"Bad music is fire and vampires. Bad," Kyo said.

"What he said." Pyro said.

"You don't even understand what he said," Sammi pointed out.

"I know he said Jessica is bad news."

"Bad news!" Kyo exclaimed, just as if he'd heard Pyro (though more likely it was because it was one of Kyo's favorite phrases).

"Ugh, that's enough out of both of you!" Sammi shouted, throwing up her hands, "I'm going to bed!"

"And I'm going home," Pyro said.

"Shut up, Pyro, you are not," Sammi said, stalking off to her room.

Pyro gave Kyo a significant look. Perhaps Kyo couldn't see him, but the bird knew when Pyro teleported. As the teleportation went into effect, Kyo flapped his wings, shrieked and flew around the room once before returning to his perch and alighting on it, grumbling again about loud noises.

The way the cookie had unfortunately crumbled ensured that Sammi's descent into sorrow was abrupt and disastrous. She spent no time on her homework. She had frequent mood swings which resulted in her wandering through the city putting whoopee cushions on every bench she could find until she was violating curfew and got driven home by the police, and she was often late for school (or ditched it entirely because there was no one at home to ground her). She ignored or was mean to her classmates (particularly her crush). She refused to be comforted by Pyro. She fed Kyo and cleaned his cage, but otherwise neglected him. Making discoveries at her chemistry lab station became an obsession.

It would make for a nice story if Sammi's phone had rung, if the Landgraab Marine Science Facility had offered her the opportunity of a life (and afterlife) time, saying that they were prepared to conduct experiments on the remains of the recently deceased using their Automagic Ghost-O-Tron to resurrect the dead. It would be nice to think that Griselda came back from the grave with an umbrella and a copy of the _Bridgeport Ghost,_ a far wiser woman who spent the rest of her life in a line of work more productive than dumpster diving and maintaining a hate blog.

But this is not what happened. Perhaps Sammi's phone _did_ ring but, if so, she didn't answer it.

What she did do was read the paper, mainly the sports section and ads for discount classes in the morning.

"Pyro, Kyo, I'm going out."

"Where are you going?" Pyro asked, "You're skipping school."

"I got a discount coupon out of the paper for a class in fishing, so I'm going to the grocery store."

"Fishing? Why do you need to learn how to fish?" Pyro asked.

"I don't, but this is 80 simoleons off! Can you even count that high? 80 simoleons!"

"What does that matter if you don't need to know how to fish in the first place?"

"Don't be stupid, Pyro. It's not about what I need, it's about what I want. Besides, I want to buy an Orb of Answers anyway. Don't wait up," she closed the door behind her.

Once she got it, Sammi mostly asked the Orb if she would find true love and whether or not she should play outside, to which it never gave a certain answer and usually advised her to try again later.

One day, not long after Griselda's demise, there came a ring of the doorbell. Sammi was curious, wondering who it could possibly be. Meanwhile, Kyo reacted by flapping wildly around the house, as if he knew just what sort of creature had come for a visit.

The creature in question was Jessica Talon. It was the first time that Pyro had seen her, and he instantly felt wary and threatened (Kyo eventually returned to his perch, and sat there chirping about Beethoven). Just like Griselda, Lady Talon proved to be only subconsciously aware of Pyro's presence, in that she did not appear to see him and yet carefully never stood where he was standing and waited for him to get out before using the bathroom. While Lady Talon was using the aforementioned facilities, Pyro tried to distract Sammi from spending time with the Lady Talon, whom he distrusted.

"I like the color blue," Pyro began, because that used to be the opener for one of Sammi's favorite conversations when she was a child, but now she was having none of it.

"Oh shut up."

"What color do you like?" Pyro persisted, a wary eye on the bathroom door.

"I like the color that makes you stop talking," Sammi retorted.

"How about music? Do you like country music? I like country music."

"You know I don't like country music," Sammi told him, "Now what's your problem?"

"That vampiress. I think you should be careful around her."

"She's my friend, Pyro. A better friend than you've been lately."

"Sammi, I just think-"

"Go away!" Sammi interrupted emphatically.

It was the phrase which consistently got Pyro to leave her alone. It worked this time, as it had all of the others. The magic he was bound by did not allow Pyro to disobey the command. Sammi picked up the toy and put it in her bedroom before the Lady Talon emerged from the bathroom.

"I heard about your mother, child," Jessica was saying as she exited the bathroom, "Terrible thing."

"Yes," Sammi said quietly. She didn't especially want to talk about that.

Lady Talon smiled, as if she understood.

"How about we go for a drive, dear?" she asked.

"Oh, I can't," Sammi confessed, "I don't know how to drive, you came here in a taxi."

"Well, of course I did. You wouldn't expect me to teach you to drive in _my_ car would you?"

Sammi had wanted to learn to drive from the moment she was old enough, but her mother hadn't had time before her death to teach her. Jessica seemed to have come specifically to fulfill this wish of Sammi's, despite the objectionable nature of the jalopy they had to use.

Pyro may have been suspicious of Jessica Talon, but Sammi still saw nothing wrong with her. The Lady Talon was the only person who'd ever come to visit Sammi, the only one who could teach her to drive, and the only one to ever have encouraged her in the pursuit of her own goals instead of someone else's. The only one, that is, except for Pyro, but he wasn't real and so didn't count.

It took a long time and a lot of effort, but finally it was accomplished and Sammi could at last drive the car instead of having to take the subway. She and Jessica stopped at the beach. Sammi got out and strolled into the sun, but of course Jessica could not and quickly left.

Sammi didn't mind. She wanted to go for a swim.

The ocean around Bridgeport was absolutely terrible, and Sammi had a lot of fun swimming in it. She also spent some time splashing other swimmers, who agreeably splashed back. By the time she decided to get out, the sky was growing dark (well, darker than usual) and night was well on its way. Sammi decided that she wanted to jog home, even if it might be past the police-enforced curfew of Bridgeport by the time she got there. She needed time to think. Some time during that swim, she had stopped being in mourning, as if the grieving process had an actual beginning and end, and now it was complete.

All of a sudden, she wanted to go to school, to do her homework and to attend prom (which she had been scoffing at the idea of for awhile now). She resolved to do just that tomorrow. Well, maybe not prom. That wasn't for another few days. But the rest of it she was definitely going to do.

When Sammi got home, she couldn't find Pyro anywhere. It didn't really bother her though, as she didn't especially want to apologize to him. She didn't feel she had done anything wrong. She had wanted to chat with Jessica and he had been getting in the way. He did the same thing every time Sammi wanted to shower. She didn't know why he always followed her in there. There was nothing she did in there that she wanted him to see, and it wasn't as if he used anything in the bathroom. Even if he did occasionally mop up when the shower broke, there was no reason for Pyro to follow her. She was actually beginning to find the habit irritating instead of endearing.

Things that had been cute and funny before now just seemed weird and obnoxious. Pyro had been great for an ignored toddler and lonely child, but now he was just getting pushy and odd, and Sammi was beginning to wonder if maybe it wasn't time to finally let go of the idea of having an imaginary friend.

After all, she had _real_ friends now, people who didn't follow her into the bathroom like a mysterious Mr. Gnome, and who weren't always twiddling with the glowing ball on their heads because they didn't _have_ a glowing ball on their heads. Maybe Jessica didn't like going out in sunlight and maybe she had a habit of calling late at night, but at least she was real, at least _she_ was an actual person.

Pyro... well... he wasn't any better than Kyo. In fact, if anything, he was actually worse. Kyo seldom interfered with what Sammi wanted to do, and he actually helped her practice her stage whispers and discussion tactics. On the other hand, Kyo _did_ bite and of course Pyro didn't.

But really, what was a little biting between friends?


	10. Complimentary Entertainment

With the upcoming prom hanging overhead like a rather menacing wasp nest and her crush alienated (and possibly even alien abducted) due to Sammi having implied that his mother was a llama, Sammi was really in need of some distraction. Unfortunately, Pyro was still nowhere to be found, and the only thing Kyo wanted to talk about was loud sounds, flowerpots with daisies in them, and how terrifying the loch ness monster really is. In other words, he was absolutely no help. However, talking to Kyo did give Sammi some new ideas for conversation topics and pick up lines she could use.

Doing her homework near the swings behind the school after class one afternoon, Sammi stopped to check her phone and saw a message from the drama club. They needed someone to give a monologue, but nobody wanted to do it because it sounded too boring. Sammi didn't mind boring, and agreed to give the speech.

When she got to the place she was meant to give the speech, Sammi saw that the audience was absolutely full of movie people. Supporting actors, second unit directors, producers, several background extras and best boys as well. She knew some of them, because she by now knew most of the people in Bridgeport that were involved in the film industry.

Suddenly, it seemed like the worst idea in the world to be doing this. Sammi didn't even have a topic to talk about, she had not planned any of this at all, because she'd assumed there was a prepared script or something. But no, she was just thrown onto the stage in front of all these people. The microphone in front of her was too low, she was just wearing her blue jeans and plain green t-shirt, and everyone was staring, waiting for her... and she had absolutely nothing to say.

What could she, in her ordinary experiences, have to offer to these people? Everything about just about everything had already been said. Sunsets had been described in more words than Sammi even knew, and by people who'd actually gone to school as children instead of making muffins in a library. She wished now that she had attended more drama and debate classes, so maybe she could say something clever about one by using what she'd learned from the other. But hadn't that already been done? Hadn't _everything_ already been done? Was it even possible she -a mere teenager- could have anything to say to all these adults who had spent their lives painting pictures with words and acting and music and camera angles and props the nature of which Sammi couldn't even begin to imagine?

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember something - _anything_ \- that she had ever talked about in her life. She'd told most of the stories she had to Pyro, and she didn't want to just tell those stories again, trying to modify them as she went to conceal the fact that they'd been made for her imaginary friend (how embarrassing would it be to say Pyro's name up on stage?). Suddenly, she remembered that she had wanted to tell Pyro about her day at the beach, but he hadn't been around so she'd stored it up for a later time. The picture now clear in her mind, she opened her eyes, and began to talk about it.

"There is a pristine beach across the bridge, but I have never been there. But I have been to a beach, one in practical driving distance from my house," she paused because someone in the front row was chuckling, then she went on, "This beach is larger from what I've been told, but there is less of a feeling of-" and here Sammi used one of the ten simoleon words she had learned so she could teach it to Kyo, "-ataraxia than one would experience at a more beautiful beach, where the ocean is cleaner and less oily."

There was some murmuring over that word. Nobody seemed sure what it meant. Sammi smiled inwardly at her own cleverness and went on, her confidence growing with each word.

"The road leading to that little cove beach goes right past the hospital, you can see it in the rear view almost all the way down the hill," The hospital was the only building view, which had seemed somehow very ominous, but Sammi didn't say so, "Just past the hospital, the road dips down steeply, and it feels like you'll just dive off a cliff. It keeps sloping steeply downward like that and winds in this really excessive S-curve," she drew an air picture of the road with her hands, now getting into her speech, "The road terminates abruptly for no apparent reason a _long_ way from the beach, and then you have to go down this long concrete path that's just as curvy as the road itself."

"The day I went there was very warm, and the sky was clear, and there was a lot less smog than usual. Then, as I went around this big curve in the path, I could suddenly see the slick, dark water of the ocean. And, beyond that, the bridge after which our fair city is named. I had never seen the bridge before. It seems to stretch across all of space, suspended by nothing except for dreams," and perhaps smog.

"Once I was down on the smooth sand of the beach, I could see the high rises of Bridgeport across the water. I'd never seen them from a distance. They seem smaller viewed from a beach, and more exciting," instead of merely being objects in the way of driving from one place to another. On the beach that day, she could forget the fact that inside these buildings were tiny apartments, ugly bars and poorly lit discos and dance clubs that all had the same smell of cheap juice and people who never bathed, "The world seemed to open up there as I watched, and there was promise in it. Promise, and possibilities I had never even considered before." Like taking fishing and writing classes she didn't need.

"The water was warm and very nice-" despite the fact that it was oily and dark, "-and once I got to swimming-" she forgot about how ugly it was because she was too busy experiencing it to bother looking at it, "-I really found myself enjoying the feel of the ocean water and of course the fantastic view of our lovely city. I met several people at the beach, all of whom were just there to have a good time. They wanted to swim and build sandcastles-" instead of ordering another round of drinks before dancing like a perfect spaz until they passed out unconscious on the floor "-I didn't even ask what they did for a living, because it had seemed more appropriate to talk about the relative warmth and sunniness of the day instead."

"Because the warm day turned into a cool, clear evening, I decided to jog home. The trip up the hill was extremely hard work, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I loved being able to see the water and the bridge and the city in the distance, and-" she decided to try another obscure word on the audience, one which would give any spell check an aneurysm, "-the psithrurism of the trees was a very pleasant sound. I even liked the hospital coming into view as I neared the top of the incline because it told me the hard part was over," By then, she was tired, and so she reached into her infinite storage invisible backpack, pulled out her car and drove home. She decided not to mention that, either.

When Sammi had finished describing all of this and then describing it again in greater detail, the audience stood up and applauded as if they had never heard anything more thrilling in their lives. Sammi assumed they were humoring her, but as she made her way to the exit, Matthew Hamming stopped her and wordlessly handed her a signed poster of the first picture he had ever starred in _The Wolf of Smuggler's Cove_.

It might have seemed conceited, but the reality was that large portions of the movie had been filmed in that cove, and it had taken its name from the picture. Prior to the picture's filming, the beach had been so little known that it didn't even have a name. Sammi did not question why Matthew had this poster on his person, she was just happy to have it, even if she wasn't a fan of the old movie and it never showed in theaters.

Matthew Hamming might have been a putz, but he apparently could be generous too.

Accomplishing the speech and consequently thinking about that day at the beach made Sammi feel good, almost as if she could do absolutely anything if she wanted to. Her impact on the film community was so significant that the movie theater promised never to charge her for tickets again.

That was good, because she had heretofore been unable to afford to go to the movies.

Now she could even bring a friend and it wouldn't cost her a thing. And all because she'd spent an hour talking about her day at the beach and how much she had enjoyed it.


	11. Bad Day, Please Don't Take a Picture

"Matthew Hamming's new movie, _Esmond Schrimshaw: Hippo Wrestler,_ just came out and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming along with me to see it?"

" _If you're buying, then of course, child,"_ came the playful reply over the phone. Jessica knew that Sammi not only got free tickets, but could have a friend along with her who would also get in free.

"Alright, Jess, I'll be there in ten."

" _Ready in five, Samantha dear,"_ Jessica told her (Sammi had never told her that Samantha wasn't her full name, that her name was just plain, boring old Sammi).

Sammi hadn't been fond of _Prison for Dogs_ , but Matthew had been very nice to her after her monologue, so it seemed like she should see his movie. Besides, what excuse would she have for not having seen it when she inevitably talked to him again? Besides, it would help her to see a movie this afternoon because that would keep her occupied and stop her from thinking about the prom tonight and how she didn't have a date and that she would therefore have to attend all by herself. If Pyro had been around, she might have just stayed in and watched television with him, but he was still MIA and it was just too pathetic to stay home sulking alone on prom night.

Since the movie didn't seem like it was going to be very good, Sammi had decided it would be a good idea to have some company along.

Sammi got in her jalopy and drove to the highrise where Jessica Talon lived. It was the first time Sammi had actually been to Jessica's home. Even though she was waiting outside, Sammi had her first doubts. The place seemed darker than the buildings around it. And Sammi got a long time to look at it, because Jessica was not as quick as promised. In fact, Sammi waited for over an hour before finally giving up and driving away. She'd missed most of the movie by then, and just watching the end was a little unfulfilling because it didn't really make any sense without the set up.

Worse, when she exited the theater, Sammi found she had a text from Jessica, who said the outing had been a terrible idea and if this was Sammi's idea of fun then she should just attend the theater alone in future. Sammi was confused and hurt. Jessica hadn't even come, and Sammi _had_ gone alone in the end.

She tried to call, but Jessica was mysteriously busy all of a sudden. Sammi didn't have time to try and argue with her, because it was time now to go home and hurriedly dress for prom, then wait for the limo to arrive and take her to the school. Sammi wanted to look her best. After all, her crush was there, and she happened to know that he was currently unattached. Maybe tonight was her night.

Once she was all gussied up, Sammi felt that it would have been nice to chat with Pyro. He probably would have complimented her hairstyle or something. Instead, she was stuck talking to Kyo.

"How do I look?" she did a little twirl before the bird.

"Broken hearts and fire go hand in hand," Kyo replied, then angrily added, "Raccoons playing in the trash. Bad," he chortled to himself and shook his beak, "Bad."

Raccoons had a habit of knocking over the trash outside the window, and Kyo didn't like them. He would often shout at them from his perch to go away (mimicking how Sammi told Pyro to go away) and also told them they were very naughty (along with other, more colorful words).

Before Sammi could respond, the limo honked its horn and she was rushing out the door.

The prom was an unmitigated disaster.

Sammi hadn't noticed when she'd been gussying up just what a horrible thing she'd done with her eyeshadow. She caught sight of herself in the mirror near the entrance and was horrified. She looked like some freakish clown from the future. Before she could duck into the bathroom and fix it, someone started laughing at her.

Infuriated, she turned on them, "Mind your own business!"

"Go back to the big top!" they taunted, "I hear they're hiring freaks!"

Next thing she knew, she was in a knock-down-drag-out fight with a perfect stranger.

The dress she'd picked out stood up to it somehow, but unfortunately so did the makeup. There was nothing she could do about it. Swallowing her pride, hoping her crush would take pity on her, Sammi approached and asked if she could have a dance with him. He didn't even reject her, he just acted like she wasn't even there! Offended, Sammi got angry with him. It was her second fight of the evening.

At the end of night, over the sound of her protests, Sammi's picture was taken and she was handed a copy of it already printed out and neatly framed. The bruises didn't show, but now this one makeup mistake was documented for all of time. She wanted to get rid of the picture, but did she really want to throw away the only tangible evidence that she had been brave enough to attend prom in the first place?

Heartsick and miserable, Sammi called a taxi and went home.

"Sul sul!" Kyo greeted her, then announced, "Chensasheru," whereupon he began to sing.

Sammi walked past him without a word. She just wanted to go to bed, and try to forget this day ever happened. That night, she dreamed again of going on a date, this time with her crush. At the end of the date in her dream, she threw a drink in his face and mocked him for his good sense of humor.

The next morning, she was still angry and wanted to skip school. She had no mother, nobody could stop her. She could stay home and work on her understanding of chemistry all day and nobody could do a thing about it. Because she wanted to, it was exactly what she did.

While she was angrily working on developing a new potion (preferably a terrible one she could later throw at her crush), Sammi noticed Pyro stroll in through the front door. She ignored him. She didn't know where he'd been, and right now she just didn't care either, she didn't want to talk to him.

When she stopped for a bathroom break, Pyro attempted to engage her in conversation, but she blew him off and resumed her work until she finally produced a sparkling orange liquid. She didn't know what it was, but she decided that it was worth keeping anyway.

Seeing her pause in her work, Pyro immediately moved forward to talk to her.

"There was a fog up in the hills this morning," he began.

Angry, no longer wanting him for a friend, Sammi said, "I don't care about the fog, Pyro. And I don't care whether or not you liked it. In fact, I'm sick of you, and everything about you!"

Pyro announced (for the millionth time) that he was leaving. That did it.

"If you want to leave so much, then you should just go!" she threw the beaker of orange liquid at him, and then took a shocked step back as a change began that she had not expected.

Pyro seemed momentarily alarmed, but then more fascinated as sparkles began to dance in the air around him, and then purple smoke rushed in a swirl around him. Pyro looked at Sammi, and waved. Then he disappeared in the plume of smoke and popping sparkle bubbles.

In awe, Sammi saw that her imaginary friend, that ugly doll her mother had so hated... was no longer imaginary... and no longer ugly either. He had brilliant eyes of blue, a sort of comical dust-mop of purple hair with deep red tips. His soft skin was a just a little bit darker than hers. He was... human. It was amazing, of course, but Sammi was in no mood to be amazed.

"Now," she said, "you can leave."

And then -because she wanted to- she went to Smuggler's Cove and swam in the ocean. Somehow she didn't enjoy it as much as before. As she was jogging home after her swim, Sammi suddenly realized that she was no longer a child, or even a teenager, and that night at prom was the last time she would ever have to see the inside of a school. When she got home, she realized something else. Pyro had taken her advice, and now he was gone.

There is nothing preordained about the life of an Imaginary Friend. Once, not even all that long ago, Sammi had wanted with all her heart for Pyro to be a living entity with whom she could converse and play tag. There is magic in the heart and will, and it was this unrecognized power within Sammi herself that had brought life to Pyro. But because such forces are at work in granting a wish, it is no easy thing to undo. Just because Sammi no longer wanted Pyro, it did not mean he no longer wanted her or that he would simply stop existing just because she told him to go away.

Just because a thing springs from one's imagination, it does not make that thing unreal or false. Once given life, Pyro had wants and dreams and needs of his own, just like any person. Only by taking the final step to setting him free was Sammi finally rid of him.

This time he was gone for real.

But what was she to do now? Even her graduation ceremony didn't clear it up for her. She was somehow valedictorian, and also received the ribbon for most likely to have a big family. But who was she to have a family with? Her teenage crush was clearly never to be realized, and she had just gotten rid of the one man who knew her the best by ordering him out of her life. She decided to ask the Orb of Answers, but it refused to tell her anything about her job or any potential true love she might find, or if she would be rich.

What it _did_ do was advise her to become a vampire.


	12. A Little Biting Between Friends

It was only after losing Pyro (seemingly for good) that Sammi realized that there was something else which she had been subconsciously holding onto.

Sure, becoming a vampire sounded like a good idea, but there was something she would never wish for, and which the orb couldn't tell her to do. Setting aside the Orb, Sammi changed out of her graduation robes and drove away. She drove past the junkyard, and the film studio, and took the turn leading to the apartment she had spent most of her childhood in. She drove past this as well.

Sammi parked and got out of the car, and stood looking at the ramshackle building in front of her. To one side of the entrance was a large dumpster. On the other was a headstone. Sammi approached and read the epitaph, which read, _"Here lies Griselda Pyle, passionate brawler and beloved trash panda."_ Sammi was standing outside of Waylon's Haunt, a place she had never imagined she would ever return to. After looking at the headstone for awhile, Sammi went inside the dive.

It was everything she had remembered, except now there was a new girl behind the bar, who somehow managed to look almost exactly like the one who'd come before her.

The first thing Sammi saw as she walked in was a young man shoving an old guy who was wearing large glasses and a scruffy jacket. She recognized the elderly man as Alan Stanley, and she knew he was one of the few people at Waylon's Haunt that her mother had never had a negative interaction with. As she watched, the young man continued to torment Stanley, who apparently just wanted to be left alone.

Sammi decided to intervene on behalf of the old guy, who clearly couldn't defend himself.

"Hey, poodle hat!" she shouted.

Sammi was inexperienced in a lot of areas, but that line about her mother on the tombstone was no joke, and Sammi had spent her entire infancy and toddler-hood in bars, along with much of her time as a teenager prior to her mother's death. She knew just what insult to fling towards which patron.

The eyes of the young man flashed and he showed his fangs.

"Cute," Sammi replied, "Come on, just try it. Or are you scared of a puny little human girl?

When he shoved her, Sammi took that as her cue to begin a fight. Obviously, the young man's mother hadn't made bar brawling her hobby, nor taken him to a bar as a toddler. Sammi might have been unlucky in many ways, but her ability to win a brawl was not one of them.

"And stay down," she warned, imitating the low growl of a wolf just to annoy him.

She knew she was lucky though. Whatever he'd had to drink before she arrived had weakened him somehow. Normally, she would have been no match for a werewolf, even given her extensive training in bar brawling. But she had known going in that this fellow knew nothing and was off his game.

After trouncing the young man, Sammi strolled over to talk to Stanley.

"Hi there," she said, taking the bar-stool next to him.

"Do I know you?" he drawled, clearly not impressed by her winning the fight.

Sammi had to find some other way to get his attention. He didn't seem the type to be impressed by most of the things she could do, so instead she tried casually mentioning that she had once given a monologue where Matthew Hamming was a member of the audience, and that she had a movie poster the actor had personally autographed.

That got his attention.

"Hamming is a putz," he said matter-of-factly.

"But a generous one," Sammi countered.

"Oh yes, that's how he's climbed the social ladder. Lots of expensive gifts. Excellent way to get popular, if you can afford it. He certainly can. Of course, I could do that too, but I've got better things to do with my time than trying to make the world love me."

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked of Sammi.

"Nachos, every time," Sammi said, "Where's Daisy?"

"Daisy retired," the bartender replied, "Here's your nachos."

The bartender then went to wash some dirty glasses, so Sammi returned her attention to Alan.

"You said you had better things to do. What kind of things?"

"Redecorating my house to suit my Emmy, for one," he said, "I love green, myself. Emmy loves it too, but not the same shade. She says the house is far too dark."

"I like green too," Sammi said, "Not a fan of lime."

"Neither am I. But Emmy tolerates my music, so I suppose I'll have to put up with her towels."

"Is music your hobby?" Sammi inquired.

"No, but I write the score for my movies. Right now, I'm working on this beautiful drama called _The Tragedy of Life_. I want the perfect theme for it and I'm working on that all the time."

"I'll have to see it when it comes out," Sammi said politely.

"I came here looking for just the right inspiration for a particular scene. I think maybe I just found it," he was looking at her, and subtly nodded towards the scene of the fight with his head.

He then went into extensive detail about just what his script was going to look like. Sammi began to think that well... maybe, with Alan around... joining up with the film industry might be something worthwhile after all.

Then Alan mentioned Kai Leiko, and Sammi's mood darkened. She was sick to death of being recognized because she was the daughter of the woman who had once danced with Kai Leiko at a cheap bar and she really wished everyone would just forget about it. She supposed that would only happen after every single person who was alive at the time it had happened had died. For sure, she would never be able to live that long. Not as a human anyway.

Sammi really liked Alan. He was a sweet old guy with an awful lot to say, even if he didn't find any of her jokes at all amusing. She couldn't imagine why that other guy had been harassing Alan. Of course, Sammi had thought she knew everyone involved in film, and yet she had never met Alan before now. Sammi and Alan talked about almost nothing for a long time, stopping only during happy hour to order drinks. And then they resumed their involved discussion about a recent fire Alan had seen and also the fire department in general. Then they talked about music some more.

At closing time, Sammi bid Alan farewell. As she was walking out, Sammi noticed that Jessica Talon had been in one of the darker corners, watching television. Once they were outside, Sammi called to Jessica, who stopped to wait for her. After all, Sammi didn't want to be rude by ignoring one of her oldest friends, a powerful lady who hadn't changed at all in all the time Sammi had known her.

"Hey, Jess, where have you been? You haven't been answering any of my texts."

"I've been busy, child," the Lady Talon replied, her eyes dark and vaguely irritated.

"Too busy for me? Come now, Jess. You aren't still mad that I saw _Hippo Wrestler_ without you, are you? It wasn't good, I promise it's not worth being mad about," Sammi decided not to mention that it was Jessica's own fault for not coming out of her highrise.

After all, that would hardly endear her to the fierce and fiery vampiress, now would it?

"I've seen it since. I agree. I am not angry about that, though I still would rather not schedule another group outing if you're just going to leave without me again," Jessica replied.

"I wasn't thinking of that," in truth, Sammi never wanted to have that experience of being ditched again, "I was... um... thinking of... something... else."

"Sweetie, I'm already taken," the Lady Talon informed her.

"No, no, no! Nothing like that!" Sammi said hurriedly, "I was actually thinking..."

She glanced significantly at the fang tips just visible between the Lady Talon's slightly parted lips. At last Sammi saw in the dark lady of the night's bright red eyes something which had eluded her for so long. A way out. A way to outlive them all, a way to do both what her mother wanted and also what she herself had dreamed of her whole life long. She could be a star _and_ an astronaut, if she had the time. And the Lady Jessica Talon could give her that time, if she could be persuaded. All Sammi could do was ask. The vampiress smiled, her eyes alight with the promise of something as yet unknown.

Sammi offered her arm, and the vampiress took it and bit. A haze of red seemed to envelop Sammi, a swirling tornado of supernatural might unleashed.

With a devilish smile, Jessica said, "Dear child, your future is about to get a lot more interesting," Then she turned and walked away into the night.


	13. It's All in Who You Know

**Part 4: If She's Put Together Fine, and Reading Your Mind (stop)**

" _Why, look at me. I've worked my way up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty." -_ _ **Groucho Marx**_

* * *

A whole lot of people will tell you that -once you are bitten by a vampire- a course of events is set in motion that will eventually lead you to drink your best friend or lover to death, and then eventually die from sunlight or possibly a stake through the heart. But -at least in Bridgeport- this is not the case. Well, rarely the case anyway. Not that vampires are traditionally fireproof, more that they are somewhat resistant to being on fire as a direct consequence of being in sunlight. And there is no recorded instance of a Bridgeport vampire ever drinking anyone to death, or even against their will really. Bridgeport vampires, though occasionally evil, are traditionally quite well-mannered. This might account for the dearth of vampire hunters in Bridgeport.

However, that did not stop the torrential flood of rumors which almost immediately began to circulate about Jessica Talon's late night activities. However, nobody paid any attention to Sammi that morning when she went to tour the theater before the first show, even though she was the one bitten and had no doubt allowed or even asked for it because that's just how things are in Bridgeport. Then again, nobody paid any attention later when she slipped past the bouncer to get into The Prosper Room.

But that came later.

First, Sammi strolled around the theater, looking at the inner workings of the place she was touring. She'd only attended the theater a few times, and never had she been looking behind the curtain. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. She knew the magic of film was not contained in the popcorn strewn rows of cushioned theater seats, nor in the projection room, or the concessions stand with its aromatic popcorn and suspicious looking hot dogs. She was not about to become an usher, she was not considering a job as a projectionist. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was signing up for. What was the bottom rung of the film career anyway?

The bite on her arm was starting to itch, but she steadfastly ignored it. After touring the theater, she decided to stick around for the movie. _Balloonists I Have Loved_ was not exactly a great example of film, but Sammi watched it as she'd never watched a movie before. This was, after all, her future.

She paid attention to everything. Not just the subtitles telling her what the actors had said, but their facial expressions as they spoke, the way their words sounded as they were spoken. She made careful note of the timing of every cut, the camera angle used for every shot, the underlying musical score which was meant to go unnoticed even as it manipulated the audience's emotions. She noted makeup and costumes, lighting and location. So much went into making a movie, she was sure she'd never be able to understand all of it. Was this a mistake? Probably.

However, as she exited the theater, Sammi decided that she should go and see what the entry level position for the film industry even was. She imagined it was fetching lunch for the actors or something. To her surprise and relief, she found herself talking to Alan Stanley's personal assistant, who allowed her to sign up for the role of background extra in what would be Alan's directorial debut.

" _The Tragedy of Life_ probably won't sell as many tickets as _Hippo Wrestler_ , but it's a fine concept. Very deep and evocative," said the assistant.

"Evocative of what?" Sammi asked.

"Just evocative," the assistant replied.

"Uh-huh," Sammi nodded, pretending that made sense. She figured she couldn't afford to be picky. If she turned down this job, would she have the commitment it took to be back here tomorrow? Probably not. She signed on for the project.

"You might want to go to the Prosper Room," the assistant suggested, "That's where a lot of the cast and crew hang out. Not Alan, usually, but all the rest. You should get to know them. If you can't impress them somehow, they'll probably make your life a nightmare."

Sammi smiled to herself. It was she that would be making their lives nightmares if they gave her too much grief. Still, it was a sound suggestion, and she'd never been to a place as high class as the Prosper Room before. She also needed to become familiar with local celebrities who might endorse her future pictures, and music sensations who just might be asked to write the soundtrack for her movies in the future. She did not intend to be a background extra for long.

As she exited the film studio, Sammi was wordlessly brushed out of the way by a woman wearing sunglasses and high heeled boots. Sammi recognized her as Emmy Starr, and wanted to get an autograph from the beautiful actress. But she restrained herself. She couldn't just go around asking for autographs from her future coworkers, could she? That would hardly be proper.

The lovely starlet stepped out past the curb and got into a limo which drove her away. Since Sammi could remember, there had been a rumor going around that Alan Stanley and Emmy Starr were an item. She was glad she'd managed not to ask for an autograph. It was one thing to ask for one from a star, but the girlfriend of her new boss? Out of the question.

The newspaper had told her that The Prosper Room was _the_ hottest hotspot tonight. Even had it not been, Sammi was disinclined to enter those lower class joints where she had spent so many of her formative days. She was blocked by a larger bouncer with the deepest voice she'd ever heard.

"Hi, I'm Sammi," she said.

"Armstrong Diesel, friends call me Deez." was the deep bass reply, "I can't let you in. And I won't be bribed."

"Oh, of course not," Sammi smiled sweetly, "Wouldn't dream of it," she didn't have the money anyway.

"Very kind," Diesel said, "I'm tired of people always trying to bribe me. It's insulting."

"I'm sure," Sammi decided to go along with him, "It's got to be annoying that people think you can just be bought, like you've got no integrity."

"Or money," Diesel replied, "I'm a writer in my free time. I'm very good at what I do."

" _Real_ -ly?" Sammi was surprised, "I've never seen a book with your name on it."

"I ghost write, mostly. The pay is good, and I don't have to go to all those signings or get my name in the papers. I like being an unknown. Keeps peepers away from my windows."

"I bet you could keep them away just by giving them a fierce look," Sammi suggested.

"Yeah, but they'd wake me up in the middle of the night like a pack of zombies and then I'd have to deal with them. I'm not very fond of violence."

"But they don't know that," Sammi said, "You can certainly bluff them, you look big and strong."

"It's all looks, babe," Diesel said, but she could tell he was flattered.

"Well, someday when I'm rich and famous, maybe you can write the script for one of my movies. I'm just a background extra now, but my mom wanted me to be a big-name actress."

"You've got the looks," Diesel told her, which made her blush.

"Well, I suppose I had better just use the restroom and go then," Sammi said, with a wink.

"You'd better," Diesel replied, and promptly looked studiously at the wall as she slipped past him and into the VIP part of the lounge.

She spent the evening schmoozing it up with high class celebrities, whom she found to be just like the low class ones she already knew, except in fancier clothes and eating more expensive food. A bowl of lettuce they dared call salad put her out 54 simoleons. The Simoleon Sunrise she ordered wasn't as special as her mother had always fantasized either. Expensive juice is still just juice, and Sammi figured she could learn to make better stuff in her own kitchen if she grew the right ingredients.

As she was leaving, it became apparent that someone had told Diesel that she'd sneaked in (as if he didn't know). He stopped her as she was exiting the lounge, but then he just looked at her for awhile.

"Well, I guess I've been caught," Sammi prompted after a time.

"I guess you have," Diesel replied, and then turned to walk away.

"You're letting me go?" Sammi called, not quite believing it.

"Sure thing," Diesel said, looking back at her.

"Why?" she asked.

"I told you, girl, you've got the looks for the business. No reason to make your job harder by keepin' you away from those noisy party types you've gotta impress to go anywhere. 'sides, you seem like a good, friendly type of girl, an' I like givin' good people a hand when I can, 'specially if we've got the same kinda life dreams."

"You're a sweetie, Deez," Sammi told him.

"Sure am," he said, then turned away again, waved over his shoulder and walked off.

Sammi made a mental note: when she was rich and famous, that was one bouncer she would always have a friendly word for. She wouldn't even resent giving him an autograph if he ever wanted it. Some people forgot where they had come from. Sammi didn't want to be one of them.

When she got home, Sammi at last felt the full effects of her decision outside Waylon's Haunt.

Her blood boiled, her skin burned, and she felt a fire within. The fire seemed to flow up from her toes, curling up around her legs, sliding up her body until finally it engulfed her. It seemed to burst forth from her, a blaze reaching out from behind her eyes, and darkness swirled around her for the second time. In a flash, it was over, and she knew that she would never be the same.


	14. Something Vampire This Way Comes

Sammi's luck and outlook had just changed utterly. No longer was she weak, uncertain, her judgment clouded by a million doubts. Now everything was clear, and it was like she had all the time in the world. The world was in slow motion, everything she did was faster. She charmed her way into people's lives with greater ease, and slipped into the notice of the public's eyes without effort. She slinked past bouncers and into places she was previously forbidden entry without at least a 50 simoleon bribe. The rest of the world knew Sammi had changed almost before she did. Some feared her, but most were drawn to her, and her newly acquired status.

The light burning in her eyes didn't seem to be an undead giveaway to most, they simply found it stunning. It was easy, so terribly easy, to just find out about people. Sammi no longer had to talk to someone at the bar to find out who they were, or for them to find out who she was. She could pick up bits and pieces about who they were from across the room, and base her plan of approach on that. She could also pull them towards her with but a thought, and suddenly they were at her mercy. She had so many conversations every night at the various lounges that none of them stood out anymore, every single one was just another drop in the bucket, another pair of eyes turned her way, another lost soul looking for meaning in the depths of her fiercely glowing green eyes and shining white hint of fang to make her look more dangerous and interesting.

All her life, people had told Sammi what to do, and she had been forced to impress them. But now, _now_ the shoe was on the other foot. Celebrities who formerly wouldn't give her the time of day were suddenly at her feet, begging for autographs. The power was intoxicating. Sammi loved it.

With a purr and a flashing smile, Sammi brought those caught in her orbit to their knees. Everyone who had ever been mean to her now experienced a chill at her presence, and they were helpless to resist her charms. She was only a background extra, and was new to the whole vampire thing, but Sammi knew the potential that was now hers to command. Her time felt unlimited, her untapped potential unrestricted. This was the magic, the power, and the ferocious glory of being undead. This was the world which she had been meant to be a part of all along, a world where the rich and famous snobs of Bridgeport were frightened, intimidated and in complete awe of her.

Sammi quickly acquired a new set of clothes to go with her new existence. She changed her hair and makeup, dressing for what she now was, and what she hoped to be in the future. Everything was black and red, sexy yet fierce. She was turning heads without even trying, but she really wanted to knock 'em dead. She wanted them to whistle as she passed, and then shiver in fear when she looked back to glare at them. She wanted them loving her, and afraid of her at the same time. She wanted to be beyond the ordinary. And so she was.

Though Sammi abused the power she now wielded, she _did_ have two rules. One, she would never drink from a person. Two, she would not try to force them to love her romantically. The first rule was more for her own protection than morality. She was too much in the public eye for it to go unnoticed if she went around biting people. Likewise, any untoward relationship was bound to hit the gossip columns. Besides, after reading their minds, Sammi found that there wasn't a man in the world that could hold her interest for long. They all seemed to have the same handful of traits, the same favorite food and the same poor taste in music. Anyway, Sammi's identity and future were both now wrapped up in her new popularity, and she didn't want to lose it. In fact, one might say she was quite greedy. She wasn't content merely to have the charisma and celebrity status to further her career. She wanted it all.

And that meant turning every head in every bar, in every lounge, in every dance and disco. She wanted to be noticed. More than that, she wanted to have value in everyone's eyes. She wanted to be their friend, but only to further her own goals. She needed none of them except as stepping stones to her goal. She didn't even make a note of who did it when she was gifted a luxurious couch one morning after a night on the town. She tossed aside love letters after reading them, with no intention of acknowledging their senders in any way.

She was an office hero, but with an entrepreneurial mindset. She was attractive, but not quite above reproach. Her power still had its limits. But perhaps not for much longer.

It was then that she began to employ her gardening skill. Certainly, she had new and unprecedented access to the other side of that dimensional gateway in the fridge whose guardian was the Freezer Bunny, but one taste of plasma fruit at the bistro she was promoting for some extra cash between work shifts and she was hooked. Nothing would satisfy her after that. She became a regular at the consignment shop, checking daily to find out if any plasma fruit nectar had come in. She bought some fruits and vegetables from the local grocery and planted them. It came to her with surprising ease, and she realized that she was a natural at it, even if she had to do her gardening in the dead of night to avoid bursting into flames.

It wasn't long before those around the film set _did_ start taking notice of her. Particularly Matthew Hamming. In a matter of days, she became his personal assistant. Maybe he had been hoping for something more in their off hours, but Sammi didn't need him to accomplish her goals, and she wasn't interested. He'd been too old for her before, but now he would be dead before she made it to middle age. Sammi had no need of any relationship so brief as that, nor any man so lacking in interesting character traits as Matthew Hamming (who was still a putz). But she also couldn't see herself with any of the vampires she met. They were all evil, and she knew that would tear them apart in the end. She could never love someone evil, no matter how she might want to. It just wasn't in her, and she rejected them outright whenever she found out about their treacherous streak.

She might be a vampire, but that didn't mean she had to steal candy from babies.

But not being able to find a man worth her while wasn't currently bothering her. Maybe someday, but not today. Right now, her focus was absolute. She was going to become the most famous creature in Bridgeport, for all the right reasons (assuming looks and charm were the right reasons), and she was going to climb right to the top of the film career.

She had originally wanted to be an actress to please her mother, but now she was less certain. Her writing was improving wonderfully with her new vampiric powers helping her along. That trailer was pretty inviting, but on the other hand she had not forgotten that one day as a teenager when she had reduce a room to tears by describing the sunset over the waters of Bridgeport.

She did want to tell stories, and hadn't even known it until then. But did she want that more than for the whole world to swoon at the mere sight of her? She could not have both. At least... not at the same time. That was a thought. She could do one and then the other. After all, she now had the time.

She had time enough now to do anything she wanted.

 _Anything_.


	15. A Production Manager Earns Every Dime

"Sul sul!" Kyo greeted enthusiastically, but Sammi wasn't paying attention to him as she came through the front door, finally home from work, a bit late actually.

She was distracted by her phone ringing. It turned out that she had one missed call from the restaurant side of Steve's Business complex. Sammi had never met Steve, but this was the second time he had called upon her to boost the popularity of his restaurant, which just never seemed to be doing that well.

Sammi groaned at the idea of eating there again. They didn't serve anything with plasma fruit, and she found other food options pointless. But Steve paid well, and the increased fame she would get out of the newspaper article that would surely follow and detail the experience was worth it.

The other call was from the Sacred Spleen Memorial Hospital. While Sammi had already answered the call from several lounges and discos to dance there to help attract customers, she had never been called by a hospital before. They wanted her to entertain some sick kids.

The hours she could visit were difficult to reconcile with her working hours, but she agreed to do it over the weekend. In the meantime, she had a film to make a cameo appearance in. She might not be an actress, but the people of Bridgeport were really excited to see her. Those who had met her wanted to see someone they knew personally in films, and those who had not were excited to see the hot lady they'd been hearing so much about.

The result of all this going on in her schedule was that Sammi had absolutely no time to play with Kyo. She filled his dish, cleaned his cage and then dashed out the door to eat at the restaurant so she could pretend to have enjoyed it to the first three people she could find hanging around outside as a direct result of her having been there.

Then she wanted to drop by the consignment shop to check for her favorite nectar. After that, she had an after-work job to check out a new movie in the theaters and see how it compared with Alan's. Alan had asked her to personally do it, because he knew her well and trusted her opinion. She expected that other movie to be garbage, especially in comparison with Alan's masterpiece. Of course, now being the production manager, Sammi had a vested interest in seeing Alan's movie succeed, especially as she got the sense that this might be Alan's last movie. She only hoped he would live to see it in theaters.

Unlike all the other crias out there, Sammi actually cared that Alan succeed in his efforts. He had talked to her when she was still a nobody. He had seen her potential, and befriended her, trusted her, and called her more often than her own father did. In fact, Alan was the closest she'd ever had to a father. She wanted this film to be a winner, no matter what.

Sammi had tried to visit Alan before work that morning, because she knew he was feeling poorly. But Emmy had been there, and her inexplicable dislike of Sammi persisted even now. Emmy had threatened to call the cops, and demanded that Sammi leave immediately. Sammi wanted to bite her, but the flock of paparazzi peering through the gates would have just _loved_ that.

Since she couldn't visit Alan, the least she could do was tell him whether or not this new movie in theaters was any competition for his film. As she was driving to Steve's Business (wishing she could afford a nicer car; there was something embarrassing about being seen stepping out of that hideous bright red jalopy), Sammi realized that she could actually put in some extra effort by going to view the movie and then talking to theater goers about the restaurant as they were exiting the movie theater.

The food was terrible, and the sky had turned almost black by the time she finished. It was drizzling, and thunder rolled overhead. Sammi was going to get wet if this was still going on when she finished the movie. Still, she had resolved to do all of this, and it wasn't like it could just be done tomorrow.

The movie was also terrible, and the thunder was louder, the rain heavier, and the sky at times was split by bright slashes of white lightning. Sammi stood resolutely in the rain, and stopped people exiting the theater to tell them about the restaurant. She was actually pleased by how awful the movie was though, because tomorrow at work she could tell Alan that he had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Just as she snagged the last unwilling pedestrian and told them lies about the restaurant, Sammi got the weirdest tingling sensation and looked uncertainly towards the sky. In a single, blinding bright flash, a jagged piece of lightning shot straight at her. Sammi felt the electricity pierce right through her, the singing pain that accompanied it was stunning. But, worse, something behind her caught fire. While she was still shaking off the effects of the lightning, _she_ caught fire. There was nowhere to go.

With an alarmed scream, Sammi began to run. But she didn't get far before the fire brought her down, forced her to the ground and she knew it was over. All the time in the world... and suddenly no time left. She heard the depths of the earth beneath her begin to thrum, and saw the dark figure rise.

She arose in her ghostly form, and looked Death in the face for the first time. This was the same otherworldly creature that had been the last thing her mother had ever seen. It was the final thing anyone, even animals, saw. She was afraid, she didn't want to die.

But then something strange happened. Instead of pointing sternly to her headstone, the Grim Reaper laughed. Sammi felt self-conscious. People were standing and staring, alternately crying and pointing frantically at the Grim Reaper. It was one thing to be unexpectedly dead, but to have Death itself laugh in your face? Sammi had never been so upset.

"Forgive me," the Reaper said, seeming to wipe the corners of eyes Sammi couldn't actually see with his bony fingers, "It's simply been too long since I've seen anything so amusing."

"Amusing? What's so amusing about being hit by lightning and then burning to death?"

"In itself, very little. Taken with the rest of your life, oh no. I can't let this end. I need this humor in my existence," the Grim Reaper said, "I'm enjoying this far too much to end it here."

"What?" Sammi asked in disbelief, "But I just _died_. Like, just now. See that? That's my tombstone."

"Yes, it is," the Grim Reaper replied, "But you've no need of it until I say you do. And I say that your life has, so far, not been entirely satisfactory. Until it is, I can't let you just stop. This is far too much fun. Get back to being alive, mortal!"

With a flick of his wrist, he brought her back. And then he disappeared. Sammi was glad to be alive, but also it was a bit of an ego hit to think that the Grim Reaper thought her life was hilariously entertaining. She didn't want to be a joke, especially not to Death himself.

Knowing Death was watching and laughing at her really messed up the power trip Sammi had been on up to now.

Back at home, Kyo called his perpetually cheerful greeting.

"Sul sul," Sammi replied, then stopped to talk to him, "You know what happened to me today?"

"Invasion flowers killed all cats?" Kyo asked hopefully.

"No, silly. I died today. Not almost. I _literally_ died today. What do you think of that?"

Kyo threw back his head and unleashed the most ghoulish cackling a parrot could muster. He laughed as if he would never stop. He just kept on cackling. Then, finally, he fell silent and turned his head to look Sammi in the eyes with one of his own.

"How did you... how could you possibly...?... you know what, never mind. I don't want to know."

As she went off to get ready for bed, she heard Kyo resume his cackling.

That really poured salt on her wounded pride.

Death might have spared Sammi for humorous purposes, but Alan was not so lucky. Or unlucky. It really depends on your point of view.

In any case, before she went to bed the night she was struck by lightning, Sammi got the call that Alan was dead. She strangely felt nothing. She hadn't seen it happen, so it wasn't real to her. It didn't strike her until work the next day just what had _really_ happened.


	16. The Dawn of Soup

Alan Stanley had been Sammi's boss, and they'd been best friends.

But with him gone, there was suddenly someone else ordering her around. Matthew Hamming, of all people. He was the lead actor in the movie, but it was still a little absurd to be working under him when he was no kind of writer or director. But at least she didn't have to work under Emmy Starr, who had been involved in the picture from the start.

Though she hadn't been told as much, Sammi knew halfway through the work day that she was going to have to commit to something. She didn't want to see this movie completed by Matthew (or Emmy!) at the helm. She knew either of them was liable to ruin it. So she decided that it was time for her to take the director's path, and work her way into a position of real control, and not just get her way through acting tantrums. But to play that role, she needed to improve her image.

That stupid jalopy just wasn't cutting it, she needed a real car. Not just a step up, a car worthy of one in her position in town and in her career. No, not even just that. She needed a car to stand as a signpost of where she intended for her career to go. Not flashy necessarily, but expensive. She was no B-movie director. Any movie she worked on was going to be on the A-list. Especially Alan's movie.

As she left work that day, Sammi committed to becoming a storyboardist. She didn't intend to stay there long. No way. But it was the opening for the direction she wanted her career to take.

The paycheck she got at the end of the day was not really as large as she'd been hoping, and left her still a few dollars short of the car she wanted. There was a huge price gap between a Vorn and a Yomoshoto. Of course, neither of those was exactly a Speedster or Vaguester, but they were a sight better than a jalopy or a lemon.

She still had the mocking laughter of the Grim Reaper ringing in her ears, and she could only imagine his glee if she -trying to capture the image of a high class lady with a fancy job- showed up to work driving a cheap pickup truck. No way was she going for that. Her life wasn't a joke for someone to laugh at, especially not Death.

She decided to take a stroll around the Bridgeport Acres festival grounds. If she could pick up some seeds or rocks worth something... but alas there was very little going on there. It was one of her regular stops when looking for seeds to plant in her little garden, and she picked up whatever she found that was worth anything. She tried fishing for a little while, but it wasn't very productive. She caught a goldfish, but that was hardly even worth selling, even if it was black.

Discouraged, Sammi nonetheless jogged home. Going for a jog always seemed to clear her head, made everything better, but she had to do it after dark these days. She fed Kyo once she got home, and then looked around for something in the house she could sell. She realized there were actually several things.

She didn't need counters, for instance. She didn't need a stove either because the one thing vampires simply have no affinity for is cooking. She didn't need to cook, and she had forgotten all she had learned about cooking the moment she became a vampire. What else, then? She hardly ever used the television. She'd read all her books and why bother keeping them if she'd read them? So close. Well, if she sold the couch now, she could save up a little money to buy a sculpting station and make her own furniture. She had a little talent where that was concerned thanks to all those discount classes. She also really didn't need the dining table, only needed one chair really. Even that just didn't quite get her there.

Ah! The fire alarm. She didn't need that if she wasn't going to cook. Then sell the jalopy... there. Enough. Just barely. She purchased a black Yomoshoto. That looked very fine in the garage, decent and respectable. Take that, Grim Reaper! Who was the unlucky one now? Humph. Amusing, indeed.

Of course, that was before she got a call from the film studio. The people shouldering the cost of the film had just reviewed the dailies, and it was their opinion that Matthew Hamming was simply looking too old to play the lead part. He just didn't have what it took anymore, and so they were looking for a new actor. Sammi pointed out that Hamming had already filmed most of his scenes, and redoing them would put production back weeks and cost thousands at least.

After some negotiating, it was decided that Hamming's part would have to be scaled back. That meant filming a lot more shots without him, and perhaps adding some filler scenes to meet the contract movie length. Sammi reminded them that it wasn't her problem. Yet.

But already she was thinking of ways she could fix the movie. She needed... she needed to write a script. Yes, that's what she needed to do. Not to replace this one, but to get a feel for writing, so when she _did_ get control of the project she could make good decisions about the direction the film was taking.

Sammi went to the library to begin work on her script. She couldn't do it from home because she didn't even have a computer of her own (or a desk on which to put it for that matter). She decided to write a science fiction script. Those seemed to have plots that were reasonably easy to write, especially if you gave it a title that wouldn't lead people into thinking it was gonna be anything TOO special.

But what to call it?

Well, it seemed like invasion movies were all the rage right now, so that was a good direction. And stories were always best when they drew from one's personal experience. What had she experienced lately that would be the source of inspiration for this beginning work? Not the Grim Reaper, that was much too difficult a character for her to tackle, she knew too little about him. Besides which, she didn't especially want to be reminded that she hadn't escaped from Death, it just hadn't wanted her. It is one thing not to want to meet your Death, but it is quite another for that Death to summarily reject you.

So what else bad had happened, something that didn't directly involve Death? Looking out the windows across the city of Bridgeport, she searched for inspiration. And then she saw it, right there across town, the sign for Steve's Business. And she had her title.

 _Space Soup_.

Yes, that would do nicely. After a moment's hesitation, she began typing.

Over the next six hours, Sammi became convinced she was writing the screenplay for the millennium, a science fiction triumph of the ages, a story that her entire life had prepared her to tell, as if she had always been destined to write this one, all important work.

Then she finished it, went home to sleep for a little while before getting up and getting ready for work. She had some concerns about her script now, but she refused to look at it as she sensed that doubt would set in. Last night was a bit of a haze, and she didn't remember it very well. Already she had a sequel in mind. She hadn't actually written the story for a sequel, but she had enjoyed _Space Soup_ so much that it seemed reasonable to just keep writing that world and those characters. Maybe forever.

Certainly if that restaurant kept calling her to promote them, she would never be lacking in inspiration for what the next adventure would involve. There would always be more bad soup.

Sammi presented her script before work, and made a neat 300 simoleons before clocking in for the day. Script writing sure seemed like a worthwhile pass time. But it had really taken a lot out of her, and she didn't draw any very good story boards that day. She'd been hoping to get promoted right up to 2nd unit director, but that was not to be.

Still, as she left work just a little bit richer and drove home in her semi-expensive new car, it seemed to Sammi that she would soon be able to afford to live in a highrise if she kept up the script writing. This thought seemed to be confirmed when -apropos of nothing- a tidy sum of 9,800 simoleons followed her home and deposited itself in her account.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey, C. Good to have you with us, glad to hear you're enjoying yourself.  
**_


	17. Become a Director Path

Sammi had always avoided social networking with her phone. Her mother was semi-internet famous, and the last thing Sammi wanted was to get associated with _Hating Everything_ , because surely there were still some lama glamas out there who remembered it. But she had sold every item that could possibly have entertained her (including -she belatedly realized- the Orb of Answers, which had been sitting on one of the counters when she'd hastily sold it), so she browsed the web for awhile, and then tentatively decided to try video streaming. She didn't really have anything special to say, but she thought as she had just before giving that monologue in high school and found something worth talking about for at least a few minutes.

Then, high with enthusiasm for video streaming, Sammi went to bed.

The next day was the weekend. Sammi quickly fed Kyo, streamed a quick video, and then settled down to begin work on _Space Soup II: Not Your Momma's Bouillabaisse._

She had more trouble this time. After all, as a sequel, _Space Soup II_ needed to be bigger, better, more epic. She also wanted to increase focus on themes that the company that bought the rights to _Space Soup_ had really liked (hence the use of bouillabaisse in the title). Ideally, she would also have included repeats of favorite scenes of the audience, but of course _Space Soup_ hadn't even begun casting yet. She also began to have some doubts about writing a sequel. _Space Soup_ had been so easy, so natural, and so wonderful. Could she really hope to ever recreate that?

It seemed unfair that she was less confident now that she'd actually written a script and sold it than she was before. She should have been buoyed by the fact that someone had enjoyed her efforts, but instead she was paralyzed by the fear of not being able to meet expectations. The first work had been out of nowhere, and nobody had known what she was capable of. Now they had an idea, and would expect not just a script equal to _Space Soup_ , but actually greater.

Of course, what most people don't understand is that storytelling is not a straight line upward. Just because one's writing skill consistently improves, it does not mean that every story one tells will be better. There is an art aspect to it, and that cannot be measured in little blue gel spots. Sammi had the talent, but she was not sure that she also had the rest, which was just shy of pure magic.

But, somehow, she managed to finish the script before it was time to visit the hospital. Even though the film studio was in the opposite direction, Sammi decided that she would drop off the script on her way back from the hospital. She was beyond exhausted and stressed when she reached the hospital, completely frazzled was the term. The hospital staff did some whispering, but the kids seemed to enjoy everything she said and did, and she got paid in the end so she figured that was fine.

Then she drove across town and offered up her script. It sold for a neat 400 simoleons. Less than she was hoping. She wanted to know why, and the answer was that it seemed a little forced and uneven, and there was too much emphasis on the little things that didn't have a lot to do with the plot. She couldn't understand it. Those "little things" were the very same things they'd liked the first time, and said straight out that they wished there was more of. Shouldn't they have liked seeing more of the things they had asked for? Apparently not.

She felt like having a drink after that disappointment. She was amazed at how crushed she could be about something that didn't really matter. She wasn't trying to make a living at script writing. Besides, she'd only just started a couple of nights ago, she couldn't just expect to become an overnight success at it. And she _had_ sold the script. Even if they didn't like it, they still bought it. That wasn't nothing.

Sammi decided to take a jog down to the pier of Bridgeport to clear her head instead of going to a bar (the closest of which was Waylon's Haunt, and she had no intention of going _there_ ). There were never any boats at the pier, but sometimes there was some good fishing. Not that she intended to fish.

The jogging and cool air felt good, offering a release of tension after the long day which wasn't even over yet. But, as she was jogging down that thin strip of land with water on either side, Sammi saw something bobbing around on the ground. Something purple. At first it looked like it might be a beached fish but, as she got closer, she realized it had white spots and didn't look like any fish she'd ever seen. It looked like a tiny piece of starry night sky just hopping around on the ground.

Sammi didn't know a great deal about fish, but she _did_ know that beached ones seldom hopped.

She realized quite suddenly that it was a bird, a bird unlike any she'd ever seen before. It took no notice of her, pecking at the dried seaweed washed up on the shore, maybe looking for sea creatures tangled in the fronds or something. Sammi approached quietly, careful not to alarm it.

"Hello sweetie," Sammi said when she knelt down near it, "Would you like a snack? I have a fish."

The bird cocked its head and looked at her. It seemed to sense that she was not a predator and didn't fly away. It thought about biting her when she reached toward it, but decided not to. Apparently the offer of fish was one it approved of and somehow understood, because it hopped onto her arm.

It was then that she realized what she had was a Spotted Sixam, a wild species which migrated between Bridgeport and Appaloosa Plains. It was worth a whole heap of simoleons. It seemed suddenly like fate was compensating for the disappointment of _Space Soup II_. There, perching quietly on her shoulder was something worth more than 1,000 simoleons, more twice what she'd made selling _Space Soup II_. It was even more than she'd made selling both scripts put together.

In her eyes, the bird sitting on her shoulder was just pure simoleons now. And it was beautiful.

Sammi took it home, made an ad online, and sold it before nightfall.

She didn't need another friend, especially not something so insignificant as a mere bird. What could a bird do for her anyway? What she needed was money for a nice apartment now that she'd bought herself a sculpting station, which she intended to start using... sometime.

But first, another script was in order. She also needed to keep taking good care of herself so she could do an excellent job at work and get quickly promoted. She was close to that director's chair. Screw desk, dining and living chairs, that was the only kind of chair she really needed.

To that end, she fed Kyo and went off to the library to begin working on a new script. She had a pretty good idea about what she wanted to do. Something that was sure to be a hit this time. But she realized as she was giving Kyo his chop that, for some reason, she just couldn't quite meet his eyes.

To shrug off the feeling, she decided to talk to the first person she met at the library, some random bouncer guy who'd just gotten off work. She read his mind, and found that he had a good sense of humor. With her vampiric abilities, she made him think of her, and then sprang upon him with a humorous introduction. He was receptive to her every word, not only because she was famous and charismatic, but also because she had messed with his head before he ever saw her.

"So what brings a nice girl like you out to the library on a night like this?" he asked.

"Well, Mikey," his name was Michael Sleep, "Partially for research, a little bit for fun, but mostly because the library's the only place open this late that's worth visiting. Fond memories of this place."

"I like it too," Michael replied, "Much better than a movie theater, and I can go here whenever. Besides, there's some great tippers here."

"Tippers?" Sammi asked.

"I play guitar as a hobby," Michael told her.

"I see. Why not play me a tune? I'll dance for you."

"Sure thing. Oh, and I didn't get your name."

"I didn't give it."

He laughed, and began to play for her. In return, she began to dance, first by herself, and then with whoever was attracted by the sound of the (quite good) guitar playing. Sammi got no writing done that night.


	18. Ruining Everything

**Part 5: It's All Very Nice, But Not Very Good**

" _When there's a snag in my plans because I failed to account for something, it stills feels like reality's fault. Reality should know about my plans. It should know when I'm not expecting to deal with the unexpected, even if it isn't very unexpected."_ **-** _ **Hyperbole and a Half**_ **(Allie Brosh)**

* * *

"No, that's not where I want that light! I want it over here, so it creates a halo around my head!" the sound of Matthew Hamming shouting was a regular occurrence, and nobody really payed attention to what he said, "Wait, stop, stop! That puts light on that thingy in the background. We don't want the audience to notice it, it's just there. They're supposed to be noticing _me_!"

For once, Sammi's life was going exactly as she intended.

She was breezing over the last few obstacles to total career success. In just a few short days, her scripts had gained such attention that she'd been asked to redo the script for Alan's movie. There still wasn't really a director, it was just Matthew Hamming yelling conflicting instructions at people who weren't really listening to him. But the fact that he was doing his own thing meant Sammi didn't need to worry a great deal about actually producing the script rewrite in any reasonable length of time, because it wasn't like the film was actually progressing right now anyway.

"Who made this outfit!? It makes me look like Hank VIII. Was that the tubby one? It doesn't matter. That's what I meant. I will _not_ wear this jacket. Get me another one!"

"There... um... isn't another one designed for this scene or this lighting," said the wardrobe assistant.

"I DON'T CARE! GET ME SOMETHING BETTER!"

Fortunately, Sammi's new position meant it no longer mattered whether or not she got along with the cast. That freed her up to tell Hamming when he was being a putz (like now), and Emmy Starr when she was being a complete weeping cria (which was basically all the time). Emmy and Hammy sure didn't appreciate it, but Sammi didn't exactly appreciate finding out that the two of them had been a little more than friends even when Alan was still alive. She wasn't afraid to tell them so either.

"Emmy, get your lips off the lead actor," Sammi snapped, "He can't very well do his scene with you draped around his neck like that. Shoo flee! Hammy, stop flirting with that key grip. Get over here. Emmy, get out of shot, this scene isn't about you. Shoo flee!"

And so the work days were spent.

At home in the evenings, Sammi continued her video streaming series, and she had added a blog to that which she called _Ruining Everything_ , because parrots and actors did an awful lot of that. She talked about how Kyo left piles of gray feathers everywhere, and how he refused to talk when she wanted to even though he knew all there was to know about speech and so could have talked about literally anything, and how he constantly flew away when she was trying to feed him in the morning, and how even though they were best friends he bit her whenever she played with him. She didn't mention that he greeted her whenever she came home, or that it was only with his help that she had learned the conversational skills she needed to become the celebrity she was today, or that he was there to talk to when she was lonely (even at 2AM when anyone she called would have told her not to call them at such an absurd hour), or that playing with him was one of the only means of entertainment that she had, because none of those things could be compared to her experiences at work, which was more or less the theme behind the blog. Comparing one of the most destructive and noisy creatures on the planet with a gaggle of bad actors who had achieved fame through good looks and an utter lack of scruples.

At first it was a lot of fun, but it kept taking more of her time if she wanted to get any financial return on it. With her work and freelance script writing, she had even less time. In fact, even though she was writing a blog partially about him, Sammi spent almost no time at all interacting with Kyo and less with any of the quick-made human friends she had. She hadn't even seen Michael Sleep since that one night at the library. She also had no time for old friends like Jessica Talon.

Sammi really had figured out how to raise interest in her third _Space Soup_ script. Originally (well, after she had the idea for the sequel anyway), she had meant to write a trilogy. But now she decided to split that story into two pieces, and leave it open for future installations instead of tying it up neatly. Therefore, she wrote _Space Soup III pt. 1: Soup of the Evening,_ which was meant to capitalize on the currently revived trend of werewolves in movies as well as space aliens.

900 simoleons for six and a half hours of work. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Of course, that was before the rumors started. They weren't true of course. First it was Sammi had been sleeping with Hamming since he started dating Emmy Starr. That was completely false. Sammi found herself in a courtroom denying the rumors, and getting paid nicely for proving they were lies.

But almost immediately she was accused of biting someone in public. She hadn't bitten anyone _ever_. In fact, she hadn't even confessed she was a vampire. That meant only one person could effectively start such a rumor. She'd thought Jessica was her friend! Well two could play at that game. Sammi deflected the rumor onto Jessica. Jessica came over that night and kicked over Sammi's trashcan.

Then there were more rumors. Suddenly all of Sammi's "friends" were looking at her like she was a cheater and a thief and also a wrist biter. Anger and embarrassment burned hot on her skin, and keeping her head high was difficult. But, despite all the scandal, Sammi still managed to sell _Space Soup III pt. 2: Beautiful Soup_ for 1,100 simoleons. And she also got promoted again. And again. And then she was finally the director of Alan Stanley's final movie. Just like she'd wanted.

Sammi wasn't shy about rewriting the script now, even though she'd rejected Hamming's advice. He had told her to read _Fade to Black_ to improve her scriptwriting, but she had politely declined. After that scandal saying she'd been sleeping with him, Sammi wanted no help of any kind from Hamming. She suspected that Emmy Starr had started it, but that Matthew must have known she was going to and done nothing to prevent it.

Sammi had hit the height of her fame, and the top of her career, and achieved her goal of taking over the directing of Alan's last movie. She tried not to let the sting of lost friends get to her, and to hold her head up despite the scandals that just kept on coming, one right after the other, all of them lies.

She had more than enough money to move into a highrise, but Snowflake Day was coming, and Sammi definitely wanted to have a gift-giving party this year, and she could only do that with a large enough space to fit all the gifts and people. She was going to wait until after that to move.

At least, that was the plan. Death must have really been in hysterics over that.

In the meantime, Sammi did buy a cheap stove and counters and a table and some living chairs to conceal the fact that she wasn't quite as human as her guests. Assuming she was even going to have any guests. Sammi had ruined her relationships with countless people in her battles against scandals and also just by never getting back to them when they called, and ignoring them when they stood out on her porch after ringing the doorbell because she was just too busy to be bothered.

Of course, it was Jessica Talon who was most angry with her. But that chupacabra had it coming. After all, she should have known that spreading the gossip that she had turned Sammi into a vampire was bound to backfire. It was her fault all this had started. Sammi should have seen sooner that Jessica was evil, and now she was not going to be sorry about it.

The problem was that she _really_ wanted to have a party, but her celebrity status wasn't enough to get people to come. They had to actually like her. Or at least tolerate her. Sammi could find only a few people willing to attend the party. Pyro was one of them.

* * *

 _ **A/N Trivia: "Ruining Everything" was the original title and name of the saved game file for this.**_


	19. Spaghetti

The handwriting was on the wall, but Sammi wasn't reading it when the time arrived for her party. Though she had never thrown her own party, Sammi was legendary around Bridgeport and everyone had told her (before all the scandal) how much they'd love to attend a party she threw. So, if she could get them to answer the phone, she could get them to come. That meant most of the people she invited were from work, because she was their boss. And also because she knew that each of them was bound to bring along at least one friend. She invited Matthew Hamming, thinking he was bright enough not to bring Emmy along. No such luck, of course.

Emmy came right along with everyone else. Sammi wanted her to throw an insult (or a drink) so that she could have a good reason to throw Emmy out, but nothing of the sort happened. Emmy minded her manners, though she edged around the party, eyes dark behind her unnecessary sunglasses.

"I'm so glad that you could-" Sammi broke off mid-greeting.

Sammi hadn't invited Pyro, he'd come along with someone else as a friend. That he was there had shocked her to silence. He'd cut his hair to bring out the red a bit more, and now it didn't look quite as goofy. He'd learned how to dress like a proper human being instead of a large rag-doll and part-time clown, and the way the shirt he was wearing hung on him made him look extremely... extremely. But there was far too much history between them for anything like that.

"Nectar, anyone?" Sammi said, trying to distract herself.

But the moment she'd stopped talking, everyone had drifted into conversing with each other and nobody paid her any attention. She was almost obligated to look at Pyro, because he was the only one who hadn't found a chatting (or flirting) partner. Well, he sort of had.

Pyro was excluded from the conversations because everyone else was a celebrity and Pyro was just... Pyro. Now he was talking to and playing with Kyo, the only person here who'd give him the time of day. Of course, being a parrot, the time of day (over and over) might be the only thing Kyo would give Pyro. Except maybe a bite on the hand (lucky bird, the habit would not go over well if Sammi did it).

While all her guests gathered together to exchange gossip about her in her own living room, Sammi drifted over to where Pyro was standing. She could just read his mind, but... but she already knew him. She knew him perfectly, knew his every quirk, his every like and dislike. She could make him think of her, but somehow she sensed that he already was. Being a vampiress was useless to her here.

"Hi," Sammi began awkwardly, then swallowed because she could think of no other words to go with the only one she had.

Those brilliant blue eyes were looking right at her out from under that striking purple and red hair. It was almost as if Pyro didn't even realize Sammi was a rich five-star celebrity now, like he didn't care, like she was the same to him as she had been the day they met... or the day she told him to leave.

"And how was your day?" he inquired, just as if... as if... nothing had ever happened.

As if he'd been standing there, waiting for her to get home every day of her life. Sammi couldn't think of anything to say. She just stood there and stared at him, unable to answer the question.

She decided that she had to talk about something, anything.

"It snowed today," she said.

It was stupid. Everyone knew it had snowed. But Pyro didn't seem to mind.

"It snowed yesterday too," Pyro reminded her, "I made a snow angel. Face first into the snow. Very cold."

Sammi laughed at the mental picture, then had to adjust it because she'd imagined him as the doll instead of the man he'd become. She wished she'd been there to see it, and maybe then they could have built an igloo for two and... she took another sip of nectar, trying to derail that train of thought.

"Sammi," Pyro said, and of all the people who'd said her name, he just said it the best.

"Yes?" she asked, suddenly feeling shy.

"I don't have to go home now," he smiled somewhat crookedly and her breath caught.

What had she been thinking to just throw him away? She might never have this chance again. He needed to know how she felt about him now, not how she'd felt about him then.

On impulse, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on him. She'd never kissed anyone before... ever. It terrified her and she started to move away. But then Pyro was grabbing her arms and hauling her body close to his and kissing her back. And... and it was _amazing_. There wasn't a thing in the world more amazing. Wishes exploded in her head, things she hadn't even been aware she wanted. Things she hadn't even realized anyone _could_ want. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to hug him, she wanted to make-out with him, to date him, to watch the stars with him, to love and be with him forever. She wanted so many things all at once it felt like her heart would simply burst with desire.

She knew now why she'd never seen a man in any bar that interested her. Why no love letter had ever caught her eye, nor any pickup line captured her attention. It was because of Pyro. It was Pyro. It had always been Pyro. Sammi had thought she wanted so many things, but could there be anything more than this other person, anything but this moment? She hoped it would go on forever. She hoped... all too soon, Pyro let go of her and set her back on her feet.

"Pyro," she said quietly, "I think... I think I..." she couldn't quite get there, but he understood.

Shyly, as if not sure the moment before had been real, Pyro kissed her again. She didn't even know how it happened, but they were suddenly making out, right there in the middle of the party, in front of all her peers, and she faintly heard Kyo shouting "Glorven" in the background, and some part of her knew that she could not be killed by accident and so, even if Pyro lived a full life, she would see two hundred and more days after his death and-

-And she didn't care.

There wasn't any romantic music to dance to, or any special lighting. But the sky was dark now, and the night was clear, the stars would be bright overhead. Pyro suggested it before she could.

They went outside and sat in the snow together, oblivious of the party going on inside, or the fact that it was getting later and Sammi hadn't signaled it was time to exchange presents yet. One by one, the guests began to leave. Sammi didn't acknowledge any of their loud exclamations over how great the party was. It was a terrible party, and they all knew it, but none would admit that they had been foolish enough to attend such a crummy event. That would would embarrass them to Death.

Sammi knew she might not have cared if they'd said it was the worst party ever. To her, even if she didn't get a present, this had been the best party of all time. She had forgotten what it was like to talk to Pyro, to have someone listen to her closely because she mattered and not because she had money or power or hypnotic eyes. He didn't even seem to mind the coldness of her vampire skin.

She wanted to tell him everything. Everything she had seen and done since they parted, all she had built and accomplished... and everything she'd torn down, the friendships she'd shattered... everything. But they didn't have time. Just as she was preparing to unburden every secret, they both smelled something.

Both of them got up and ran into the kitchen and realized it wasn't something _in_ the kitchen, it _was_ the kitchen. Someone had put something on the stove and turned it on before they left, and now it was burning. Sammi panickd. Pyro didn't. He immediately began to fight the blaze, while Sammi attempted to find her wits enough to call the fire department. The stove was on fire, and the counters had caught too, and it was spreading onto the dining table. Kyo was flying wildly, screeching in terror, but Pyro was calmly attacking the blaze. Unfortunately, the blaze was also calmly attacking him...


	20. A Man God Tried to Avoid Making

_The Tragedy of Life._

Sammi had never been struck so hard by the title of Alan Stanley's script title than she was that morning after Snowflake Day, the morning after the night, the morning after...

She had watched in horror as the Grim Reaper not only culled Pyro, but stopped to chat with Kyo and then went into her bedroom, lay down and daydreamed (at night!) for two hours before finally leaving. She knew better than to hate the Reaper, but it seemed so unfair.

He had spared her because she amused him, but why hadn't he spared Pyro? Didn't he know it had taken the power of friendship and a bit of chemistry magic to bring Pyro to life? Wasn't that worth more than a little laughter? Or was Sammi's misery a part of that 'amusement'? Or was it just that, in making Pyro, in giving him his name, his life and his freedom, had Sammi defied some sort of cosmic order? Maybe all of this was inevitable from the start.

 _The Tragedy of Life._

How was she supposed to work on a script like that with Pyro's death so fresh in her mind? (and her kitchen?) How was she supposed to go on when she had _finally_ found something really worth having, only to lose it all at once? She had always known, from the moment she turned, that she would outlive everyone she knew now. But did she have to outlive Pyro so soon?

She knew mourning. She knew that, in two days time, she would feel okay again. She knew that she could just go on, and keep going on... forever if she so choose. She had the power to do that. She could just live forever, and be in the sun and go on getting better at everything she did. She could do it. She was somebody now. She was successful, even if nobody liked her. She could...

 _The Tragedy of Life._

But she didn't want to feel better. Not without Pyro. He had been such a random part of her life, that didn't seem tied to anything, yet now she could see he was what had made her life so good to begin with. It had never been fame or fortune or the love of her mother or ballet, because she'd never had those things. What she'd had was Pyro. He'd been there. He'd always been there for her. And now...

She had waited once before, hoping for the opportunity to make everything right again. But there had been no such opportunity. She hadn't been given the chance to save her mother. But - _dammit_ \- this was Pyro! He hadn't done anything to anyone! His only crime had been living in the first place! That and being brave enough to fight a fire that had already gone too far out of control, and not keeping an eye on the counter behind him when it caught and spread the flames to his arm.

 _The Tragedy-_

No.

Sammi shut her eyes. She was not going to tolerate this. This was not going to happen. She cast her glowing eyes on the floor before her, and called to the deep well built of her lifetime and all the happiness that had been in it. It would cost her, and immortality would be beyond her reach for now, or maybe forever. She didn't care. This was for Pyro. She called upon that well to make something real, to bring forth from the pocket-closet-garage dimension the object of her desire.

The Philosopher's Stone.

So useless. She had never needed it or wanted it. So it could make objects into gold, big whoop. But it could also do something greater. If she asked it to, it would bind a ghost to her, so that person might live again in the afterlife. It was an unnatural action, one she had never once considered until now. But Pyro... she had given him life once, she could do so again.

It wasn't something she wanted to do. It wasn't even something she needed to do. It was more like... something she had to do, like she didn't even have a choice. As if Fate itself had stepped close to her and whispered in her ear _"This you must do."_

Suddenly before her was the Philosopher's Stone. She knew what it was, and what it was for. And then she was before it, speaking the incantation, and the pale green stone was rising, rising and spinning. She sensed the danger, and executed her movements carefully in calling the stone to float, and then she threw her arms high and it sprang upwards.

"Bring him back!" She shouted, "Just bring Pyro back!"

The base upon which the stone had sat began to glow green, and there was a puff of noise and smoke.

Ahead of Sammi, behind the Philosopher's Stone and its pedestal, there suddenly appeared a strange figure. The shape was right, but the movement and color seemed strange. In her ears the echo of fire seemed to crackle, and she could smell the phantom smoke which was the result of the inferno.

Sammi's sense of triumph was short-lived, overridden by a feeling of sharp disgust at the sight of what she had created. Transparent, now the orange color of the fire which had consumed him, Pyro regarded her silently, then started to float away, before stopping as if he'd forgotten where he was going.

Quickly, Sammi tamped down her revulsion at the sight of a ghost. She was a vampire, for goodness sake. And really, what was so much worse about a ghost in comparison to a living doll that was visible only to herself? At least nobody would think she was crazy when she talked about Pyro now.

Gathering her courage, Sammi walked around the Philosopher's Stone to reach Pyro. She hesitated and then threw herself into his startled arms. She'd been half afraid he wouldn't be able to hold her, but he could and did. He felt colder than she, and intangible despite his ability to hold onto her.. but he was... well, not exactly alive... but real. Again.

After he put her down, she slowly leaned forward and kissed him, to let him know that -this time- she would not take him for granted. This time... she knew why she needed him to exist. She needed him because otherwise -no matter how popular she seemed to become- she would always be alone. He had come to life for her, and now she had called him back from the grave to be with her, and to stay.

"Pyro?" She asked, looking deep into his eyes.

"Yes, Sammi?" he was looking right back at her, though the blue in his eyes had been scorched away.

"Maybe my mother never wanted you around. Maybe the Grim Reaper doesn't want you to live, and maybe... maybe the overlord or god or whatever it is that looks down on us all and tells us what to do sometimes doesn't want you to exist either... but... Pyro... I _do_."

"That's enough, Sammi," he said, his voice a shallow echo of itself, "That was all I ever wanted."

He stroked her cheek gently, and then kissed her again.

"Pyro," Sammi said when she could breathe again, "Pyro, I don't want you to go home."

He smiled and laughed a little as he said, "Dear one, you _are_ my home."

Her writer's mind told her that was the sappiest, most syrupy-sweet nonsense she'd ever heard. But screw good writing, that was exactly what she'd wanted to hear. She threw her arms around him and kissed him more. She wanted to just keep kissing him in every way she could think of.

But of course kissing doesn't last forever, and -eventually- they had to step back from each other. Not far, just far enough to gaze lovingly into one another's eyes. Ghost or not, Pyro had eyes Sammi felt sure she could just drown in. Not that she wanted to drown. She wasn't sure why she'd be thinking of drowning when she was looking into the eyes of her love, but... well, here she was.

"So," she began, clearing her throat awkwardly, "How was your day?"

"Well," he replied, "Aside from being burned to death in someone's kitchen, not bad," he lowered his voice and leaned forward to whisper into her ear, "Not bad at all."

When he straightened up and moved back a little, she could see he was trying not to laugh at how silly they were being. That, of course, made her giggle. They _were_ being silly, and they hadn't even had to make faces at one another to do it.

"So... what's your sign?" Pyro almost got it said before laughing.

The question made Sammi lose control of the giggles, and they turned into full blown laughter. She couldn't have answered the question if she'd tried, nor was it likely Pyro would have heard the answer.

Finally, she managed, "I don't even know right now."

"Neither do I," Pyro told her, "That's why I asked."

"Well, I know I graduated from Public School 67," she said.

"So did I," Pyro replied, "But I'm afraid I didn't do very well. Something about never having attended a single day in my entire life. I got a plaque and everything though."

That surprised her. Subconsciously, Sammi had known that Pyro had been doing things all this time, but she was so used to his life just stopping when she wasn't around. She wanted to ask him everything, but couldn't get any of the questions out, save for one.

"Where have you been all this time?"

His response startled her more than anything, "The future, dear one," then he smiled crookedly, "Well, some of the time. The rest I guess I spent mostly in the junkyard collecting scrap."

"That's right next to where I work!" Sammi exclaimed.

"I know, Sammi. I know."

"You've been following me?" Sammi asked.

"Don't have to. Everyone knows the great Sammi Pyle, and everyone also knows where the film studio is. It didn't take a genius to figure out where you were every day."

"And you just happened to be nearby. Why?"

"In case you needed me," Pyro answered, "And because... _I_ needed _you_."

"You better follow that remark with another kiss," Sammi told him.

And he did.


	21. A Shameful Menace

"Oh my, a ghost! Get it away!" the one lady shrieked while grabbing hold of the other.

"It's a g-g-ghost!" the other shrieked while grabbing hold of the one lady.

Pyro just floated there, regarding them dispassionately. He had seen more than enough in his time to know they would calm down in a minute (or else faint, the cowards) and then he would be able to go about his business and buy groceries. He was getting pretty tired of this whole 'scary ghost' thing. It was a little bit fun to possess an object near someone he knew was evil and freak them out, but unfortunately that meant freaking everyone else out as well, and he was less fond of that.

For Sammi life once more resumed as per usual but, for Pyro, the afterlife left something to be desired. Sammi's house did not accommodate his interests or account for his desires. There was a chemistry station, the perch for Kyo, a sculpting station, a toilet, shower, one dining room chair, a fridge, kitchen sink and the single solitary counter to have survived the blaze which Pyro had unsuccessfully attempted to put out. There was also a garden. A garden which Sammi regularly tended in order to improve her ability to interact with plants because she was still hoping to plant a plasma fruit someday. Of course, Sammi was also hoping to move to a highrise, which would make gardening nigh on impossible.

But that still didn't really give Pyro anything to do.

He didn't _have_ to stay in the house. He could go out. But getting from point A to point B was a tediously slow process when your only movement speed was lethargically wafting from one place to the next, and taxi drivers always acted shocked and appalled by a ghost getting into the back seat (Sammi took the car to work with her, of course). And, when he did get wherever he was going, Pyro always caused a tremendous stir. People stopped and stared, some of them fainted, others would point and shout at him, still others would be repulsed and disgusted just as Sammi had been when she first resurrected him. They acted just as if he was going around, loudly shouting a list of the grossest sounding words he knew at everyone he saw.

After exiting the grocery, Pyro managed to freak out several more pedestrians on his way to the waiting taxi. He did enjoy that one of them was one Rafael Striker, ambitious party-animal and former lover of Jessica Talon. Pyro didn't feel particularly bad about frightening him. Besides, televisions scared the man, and a ghost was quite a bit higher on the scary meter than a television set.

It didn't matter if Pyro went to the park, the library or the local junkyard, everyone behaved the same. He even caught Sammi doing it sometimes before she seemed to remember who he was. Then she would come forward to make a romantic gesture as a way of apologizing for her instinctual response.

Being able to float nonchalantly through closed doors and solid walls and bookshelves and couches was small compensation for the slow pace Pyro was now restricted to. Even if he could somehow get someone to get over their revulsion long enough to hire him, what job could he do when it took him half an hour just to get across his own property line?

The only one who did not seem the slightest bit upset was Kyo, who jabbered happily with Pyro for hours if asked (or not asked). Kyo hadn't seemed surprised by Pyro's becoming real, or his subsequent death and resurrection. Though he expressed fear of gravestones and death, the bird didn't seem at all distressed to find himself living in the same house as a ghost. He did bite Pyro sometimes though, but that was probably just to make sure Pyro remembered who he was playing with.

Pyro wasn't just unwanted because he was a ghost. Even though he lived with Sammi, none of her friends thought he was cool enough to be worth their time to talk to unless he spent time trying to impress them. The only way he could do that was by dropping Sammi's name, because he had nothing else to work with. A lifetime of being imaginary had prevented him from gaining much in the way of skills, and it taking all day to get from his house to the library certainly didn't help him improve any.

The only things he had to his name were an ugly umbrella and a book entitled _Do I Exist?_ Both of which were a holdover from a time when the answer to the question posed by the book was somewhat less clear than it was now, back when he really was just a product of someone's imagination.

Even though he was a ghost now, Pyro continued to age. While Sammi was still in the first quarter of her young adulthood because of being a vampire, Pyro was much older than she now, especially as he'd spent some time in the future and had aged there just as he did here. It almost seemed pointless to try building a life now, especially with this not insignificant handicap, and the fact that invention was all he was really good at and now he had to trek all the way to the fire station to work on anything.

He knew he had the courage needed to fight fires, but clearly the skill eluded him and there was no way he could be effective when time was such a factor in fire fighting.

But the worst of it was that Pyro could see that sometimes when he sailed gently into a room where Sammi was, he would startle her so badly she would forget all of the things she was supposed to do, which was bad if the list was long and somewhere on it was going to work.

Perhaps it was because he had sprung forth from someone's imagination. Or maybe it was because he had done that, then become real and then become a ghost. But Pyro was almost uncannily aware of reality on another level from those around him, and he could see when they had been planning to go fishing but then stopped cold because he approached them before turning around and going to do something else because they had quite literally forgotten what they were going to do a minute ago.

While in the netherworld, Pyro had heard of a recipe which could cure his troubles. But he understood also that he didn't have enough time left in afterlife to learn from scratch everything he needed to know. Not only did he have to learn to be an expert cook to even understand the recipe, he would also have to get the ingredients himself. And those ingredients were rare.

Sammi might be able to manage it, but not working full time and only being able to hunt for special seeds and fish during the night. There wasn't time for that. Not for Pyro.

One evening, Sammi came home elated because she finally had enough simoleons to afford that great highrise she'd been wanting. It was then that Pyro knew it was now or never.

"Sammi... I need your help."

"With what?"

"Sammi... I don't... I don't want to stay a ghost forever. I've spent most of my life invisible and unknown to anyone except you. Now I cause revulsion, disgust and fright wherever I go. Sammi, I want my life back. Please. I don't want to have to be ashamed of what I am anymore. I don't want people to run away. I don't... I don't want to live as a ghost. Not again. Not after I've learned what it means to be real and alive. I want to feel you again, Sammi. Really, as I could when I was alive."

Sammi felt conflicted. He'd told her about that recipe, and she knew she could give him what he asked, if only she would give up the life of a vampire so that she would have time during the day to work on building her expertise. Otherwise she'd be on fire before she caught a single fish.

It was a lot to ask, too much really. But Pyro asked it anyway.

Sammi had set him free once, and he was sure that she could do it again... if she was willing.


	22. Curtain Call

Sammi didn't particularly want to give up being undead. She enjoyed the power, and knowing that she had her whole life still ahead of her while those around her would fall away one by one (some she was more eager to be rid of than others). She also didn't understand why Pyro couldn't put up with being a ghost when she was happy to be a vampire. Sure, she'd had a choice, whereas Pyro had never been offered one, but at least nobody got angry with him if he confessed what he was. And sure she'd be outliving (unliving?) him by many seasons, but it was thanks to her he wasn't already wasting away in a graveyard somewhere or haunting the plastic plants at the local salon.

Another scandal came and went, and Sammi found she was beginning to understand why her mother had lived alone in quiet desperation and mean-spirited obscurity. Hardly anyone outside the bar at Waylon's Haunt had even known her name, much less cared if she spent her days head down and bottom up, half buried in trash. Certainly it didn't make headlines or the local gossip circuit. With no one -or only a baby- Griselda had never received such a request as Sammi now had. Even if anyone had told her to give up the life she'd chosen for herself, Griselda would just have laughed, thrown her drink and started a brawl because that's the sort of person she was; she didn't care what other people said about her, what they thought of her or how she made them feel.

Sammi had always strived _not_ to be like her mother. Sammi was rich (sort of), she was famous (extremely), she had good friends (kind of) and (vaguely) old friends, and an expensive car (well, not inexpensive anyway). But she was like her mother in one very important respect. Sammi had someone at home who loved her, someone she was ignoring, and she was choosing her own hopes and dreams over theirs. She wouldn't even get a scraptronic workbench because it would ugly up the place (not that the sculpting station didn't do just that... but she intended to use that... someday). Somehow, despite the fact she had it all, Sammi had sunk lower than her mother ever had. Whatever Griselda's faults, she had never once complained after Sammi brought home the half-frozen, starving and nearly wild parrot which was so noisy and flew everywhere. No, Griselda had actually talked to Kyo from time to time, almost... _almost_ taking an interest in something Sammi cared about. When had Sammi _ever_ cared what Pyro wanted? When had she ever been interested?

No, he was her toy, her plaything. It had always been about her. When she had given him the spark of life, when she had made him real, when she had thrown him out, when she'd welcomed him back, when she had bound his spirit to her household... every step had been for herself. Not for him.

It wasn't until the night that _The Tragedy of Life_ hit theaters that she saw firsthand why Pyro didn't want to be a ghost. As they were approaching the theater, other theater-goers suddenly stopped and stared. One of them fainted. Someone who had moved forward to try and get an autograph from Sammi suddenly stopped and retreated, then pointed at Pyro and yelled something unrepeatable.

In the theater, watching it, the movie was clearly a success with the audience, and Sammi loved every frame. It was everything she had envisioned. But... it had been Alan Stanley's movie. She had taken it and made it her own. And it wouldn't even have been made otherwise. But... it wasn't _her_ story. It belonged to someone else. But she had turned it around and made her own movie, and then left Alan Stanley's name on it as if this was the movie he had envisioned when he wrote the original script. She, as well as everyone who had known Alan Stanley, knew it wasn't. Not even close.

As the movie progressed, Sammi lost count of the myriad 'little' changes she had made here and there, changes which in the end altered the entire tone and meaning behind the work. This wasn't _The Tragedy of Life_ , this was _Space Soup IV: The Last Supper_.

Sammi left partway through the movie, unwilling to see more. Pyro, as ever, followed her. He didn't know what was wrong with the movie, and had been enjoying it. But he followed her anyway. And people on the street responded with fear, horror and disgust. He ignored them. Instead, he floated over to her and hugged her without saying anything. It wasn't an amorous hug, not a romantic thing at all. In that moment he was just Pyro, her friend. From here to forever, first, last and always.

After he hugged her, Sammi stepped back and looked around. Spotting a target, she read their mind. A book-lover going to a movie. What an odd concept.

"It's time for you to go home," Sammi told Pyro.

"Sammi?" concern was clear in the echo of his voice.

"I'm alright. I just... I need to clear my head. I'll be fine. Just go home. I'll be home soon."

"Sammi, you're upset. Maybe-"

"Goodnight, Pyro."

Sammi then pulled some jogging gear out of the closet dimension and took off down the street. She would have preferred to fly straight as an arrow to her destination, but the hulking structures and eternal road construction of Bridgeport made that impossible. Instead, she had to make it past every building, every piece of her past that had brought her to this night, to this action, this choice.

And this time, there would be no hot-headed mongrel beating up an old guy to distract her, no sexy vampiress to lead her astray. She didn't need to ask the Orb of Answers, or anyone. This time, she knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it. Who she was doing it for.

The night was dark and fog spread from the shadows. The moon was high, but not half full. Sammi felt its cool light upon her, and the strength of the vampire swelled inside of her. She felt energized as she jogged, even though her emotions were in knots.

She jogged past that rabbithole of an apartment where she had been born, and that fire trap where she'd learned to walk. Up ahead was the film studio, but she ignored it and turned left instead. She jogged past the apartment where Pyro had first sprung to life before her eyes, and she couldn't forget waking up every day she had lived there to find snow falling as if it would never cease. She knew Waylon's Haunt was up next, but she didn't expect the sight of it to stop her cold.

She had seen the dive before. Many times. But this time it was different somehow.

Exhausted from her long run, Sammi stopped and just looked at it. This was the bar where her mother had wasted most of her days. The self-same bar where Sammi had once asked Jessica Talon to turn her into a vampire. Sammi had almost forgotten what it was like to be on such trusting and friendly terms with the Lady Talon. This was also where Sammi had met Alan Stanley, and kicked off her film career. Though it was the career Sammi's mother had wanted for her, Sammi had deviated from the path her mother had hoped for at the first opportunity, and then taken over Alan's dream. For one moment in that bar though, she hadn't been thinking only of herself. When she took on that thug tormenting Alan, she hadn't been thinking about what she wanted or needed. For just once, she had played the hero. She couldn't think of another time when she'd done that.

Sammi could run farther and faster than anyone, smooth talk an unflirty technophobe into watching television, write the best science fiction script money could buy in just under seven hours, win a game of chess in just a few moves, fix a shower so well it never broke again and catch any wild bird she wished and keep it for her own... but what was it all worth in the end? She had learned so much, and yet somehow she knew so little.

Looking at Waylon's Haunt, she thought of her mother's grave and wondered what her own would read.

 _Here lies Sammi Pyle, scandalous film star and selfish chupacabra._

It was all the more selfish perhaps, but she didn't want that. She didn't want history to remember her that way. Even not remembering her at all was preferable to that. Hailing a taxi because she'd given Pyro the car to get home, Sammi rode the rest of the way to the Landgraab Marine Science Facility.

It was time to make a choice, and make a change.


	23. Pancakes for Sammi

**Part 6: Fish Are Always Deadest Before the Dawn**

" _The first time you see something that you have never seen before, you almost always know right away if you should eat it or run away from it."_ _ **-The Dilbert Principle**_ **(Scott Adams)**

* * *

Sammi didn't come home until dawn. She felt keenly the loss of her fangs, and the dullness of her vision in the night, and -strangest of all- the hollowness of her stomach. She wasn't thirsty. No. She faintly recalled the feeling now... it was... hunger. She was hungry!

When she arrived home, Sammi was surprised to see Pyro at the stove. He had been up half the night reading a cook book at the library before going home for some quick sleep. He had replaced the burned out stove and was now cooking on the new one. Whatever he was making smelled great and Sammi was excited.

She hadn't been excited about any food but plasma fruit in... well it had been awhile. But this, whatever it was, it smelled absolutely delicious. Sammi stood impatiently waiting for Pyro to finish and reveal what he'd been cooking. When he did, she was even more thrilled.

"Pancakes! Pyro, they're my favorite!" Sammi squealed.

"I know," Pyro replied mildly.

Pyro had made a whole plateful of them. She could have as many as she wanted, and there would still be some leftover for later. Still, breakfast was somewhat awkward, since Sammi didn't have a dining table and chairs for two. She could afford to fix that though. Sitting on the couch made it hard for Sammi to applaud the delicious breakfast Pyro had prepared for her, but she wanted him to know how much she appreciated it, and loved the knowledge that there would be leftovers in the fridge for days, even if she had pancakes for every meal. No one had ever - _ever_ \- cooked for her before. Not once.

"Pyro, these are amazing!" She said whenever she wasn't busy shoveling another mouthful in.

Pyro offered no response to this, possibly embarrassed by the compliment, unsure of how to deal with it. Somewhere in her mind, Sammi realized he'd probably never been complimented before. She'd certainly never offered him one until now. Somehow, that was more tragic than never having had anyone to cook for her. She wondered what it did to the ego if nobody ever complimented you, anything about you or anything that you did. Apparently it made you blush furiously, if Pyro's expression was any indication (of course, ghosts can't really blush properly. Or at all, really).

When the dishes were done, Sammi complimented Pyro's cooking once again. Impulsively, because he couldn't think of any verbal response, he leaned forward and kissed her. Before he could withdraw, Sammi grabbed onto him and kissed him right back, twining her arms behind his neck as she did so that he couldn't escape (not that he was even trying).

"You're amazing," Sammi told him.

"No, you," Pyro replied softly.

Then they got down to the business at hand. Sitting down on the couch together, they looked at the recipe book for Ambrosia, but not so much as a word of it seemed to make sense. Sammi understood, however, that the ingredients required more ability at gardening and fishing than she had at present.

"I think I can figure out how to plant that life fruit thing, assuming I can find a seed for it... somewhere. I know a bit about fishing. But the last thing I cooked was one of those single-serving pies in a child's toy oven," Sammi confessed, "I don't remember a thing about cooking. I think being a vampire screwed me up. Maybe in more ways than one."

"I know you're scared of stoves, Sammi," Pyro told her, "Remember, I was there when Griselda told you about the fire the day you were born. And I was there that night someone left spaghetti cooking on the stove in this very kitchen. You were paralyzed by fright. I know. It's okay. I'll be the chef."

"But... you've already burned to death once," Sammi reminded him.

"And you brought me back," Pyro reminded her in response, "I'm not afraid of fire, Sammi. It's being a ghost for the rest of my life that terrifies me," Sammi chose not to correct him by saying that this was actually his afterlife, because life ends the moment you die... assuming the Grim Reaper doesn't cackle at you and send you back after wiping away tears of laughter.

"So let's make sure that doesn't happen," Sammi said instead, "I can go fishing after work, do the gardening before... there won't be any time for script writing anymore, but that's okay."

"You probably won't have the energy to do a very good job at work," Pyro observed, "Meaning you won't get much in the way of raises."

"Who needs raises? This property is everything we need."

Pyro looked somewhat skeptical, but Sammi was proven right. With just a slight remodel, they turned the garage into Pyro's room, complete with bed, bookshelf and cooking recipes and television fancy enough to get the cooking channel and a luxurious couch one of Sammi's long-time fans had given her as a gift (the car was relegated to the driveway outside). Kyo also moved into the remodeled garage there to keep him away from the fumes generated by the chemistry station and stove; it also put him near a back door in case of an accidental fire (though Sammi _had_ bought a fire alarm, just in case).

There was plenty of space outside for Sammi's garden to grow, and they weren't really too far away from some of the best fishing holes in Bridgeport. Not only that, but experience in hunting for seeds told Sammi that the cemetery would be a good place to look for the seeds she needed to grow the special plant she'd seen in the recipe book. There was also the butterfly pavilion at that big park across town. From having spent some time catching butterflies in her formative days, Sammi knew nothing attracted butterflies like flowering and exotic plants, and that's just what she was looking to find the seeds for. Even if there was no such plant there now, perhaps there had once been?

Stepping outside the house that morning, Sammi was startled to feel pleasantly warm. She hadn't been warm since before she turned, and especially not as a result of the sun overhead. She was glad she had the next few days off so she could adjust, particularly since she hadn't slept at all the night before.

The warm sun felt good, and -though it was dirty- the work in the garden was satisfying and Sammi couldn't wait to improve enough to plant some of the rare and special seeds she had collected in previous days. Who knew, maybe one of those was the very seed she needed to grow!

After she finished, Sammi showered. Hearing the television in Pyro's room, she came in and sat beside him on the couch and they talked about nothing in particular. Sammi shared what she knew of gardening, and Pyro detailed what he'd learned from cooking while she was outside. The information was meaningless to both of them, but that wasn't the point. The point was just to hear each other talk, for each of them to listen to the sound of the other's voice, to be companionable for a short while.

Then Sammi begged exhaustion and went to her room for some much needed sleep.

While Sammi slept, Pyro got up and, after conversing briefly with Kyo, went to work at the chemistry station in what had formerly been set up as the living room but was now mostly just bare essentials.

He hesitated before the station. It was at this station that Sammi had concocted the potion which had brought Pyro to life. It was almost a sacred object to him, and he was scared to touch it. He was also -despite what he'd said- afraid of the potential fire he might start because of his inexperience. But then he decided there was no time for doubt or reluctance, and he began to work at the station.

He worked the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, until just before Sammi woke up, when he returned to the couch and the cooking programs, a mood enhancing potion in his pocket.


	24. Never Surrender

By the end of the weekend, Sammi had her schedule more under control. A major boost to her day was coming in hot in the afternoon after gardening all morning and finding a drink waiting for her on the counter. It was deeply pink and sweet, and it always seemed to make her day a little brighter. She assumed Pyro was responsible for it, and that he must somehow be learning to cook it. She didn't ask, and he didn't tell her. He was almost always in front of the TV, reading a book or cooking at the stove.

After the morning's gardening, Sammi would go out to fish for the rest of the day until she was hungry, when she would come in and either eat leftovers or something Pyro fixed while she was out. The caught fish made great fertilizer, and the breakfasts were getting better every day.

But on the day work began again, the peaceful routine was rudely interrupted.

Sammi had been out fishing so late the night before that she didn't have time for breakfast and gardening before work, even though she didn't have to leave until the afternoon. Despite skipping breakfast, she didn't have time to finish weeding the tomatoes before an internal sense of time told her that she was late for work. She had to work to pay the bills, and so she was forced to leave her newly planted seedlings unwatered. She vowed to water them when she got back.

At work, she struggled to focus on a scriptwriter's sales pitch.

"And then the good aliens come and take the actors up to their ship to save them from the big ugly insect aliens because they think that everything they see on TV is real!" the man had spent a lot of time building up to this one joke, and now he was red-faced, breathless and slightly rumpled.

"That," Sammi said slowly, "is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard, and it's clearly an attempt to make a mockery of every movie in the science fiction genre."

"And that's why it's brilliant?" the writer said hopefully.

"No. That's why I'm telling you to get out of my office," she stood and pointed to the door, and waited for the man to leave before sitting back down, snorting.

"Are you insane?" Sammi was beginning to regret making Reuben Littler her personal assistant, "I don't even _have_ a sense of humor, and even I think it's funny. Were you even listening to his pitch?"

"Really, aliens that think everything they see on TV is real? Come on, Reuben, who would ever believe television was real? Everyone knows a soap opera is perfect fiction. That's what makes it so entertaining. Scriptwriters," she scoffed.

"Might I remind you that it was you who wrote _Space Soup_? How believable was that?"

Sammi bit her lower lip. Reuben was bang on in guessing she hadn't been paying attention. She was tired and feeling irritable, and the last thing she wanted was a new film to direct.

"It was really that good?" Sammi asked reluctantly.

"It was really that good," Reuben assured her, "And, by the way, he loves science fiction. He especially loves the _Space Soup_ franchise. Go easy on him this time, he's a genuine fan."

"Ugh... alright, fine. Get him back in here."

While Sammi sleepily tried to pay attention to a scriptwriter's pitch, Pyro slipped out of the house, watered the plants and then cruised back in to work more at the chemistry lab station, while Kyo sang the sound effects for _Obishay_ quite loudly in the next room.

There was a method to Pyro's apparent madness. While Sammi had been enjoying the warm days outside, Pyro had been checking the weather, and he knew a cold wind was going to blow in tonight. Possibly cold enough to make all of Sammi's plants go dormant. And it was supposed to stay cold.

Fall had arrived, and with it had come a chill in the air. A chill which would ice over ponds and lakes, and freeze plants. Pyro did not know the consequences of frozen plants, but he _did_ know the consequence of the coming full moon. Sammi seemed unconcerned by it, possibly because her plants had never had to survive a full moon before. If one was killed, she simply planted another. They had been merely a means to an end, not an end in themselves.

But now she had some special ones in the ground, and they were big enough to attract the decrepit and hideously cursed monsters that oozed up from out of the ground during the full moon. During previous full moons, the only real annoyance was their tendency to peep through windows and spend the night waving their arms and shouting about how the front door was locked (as if there was some mystery as to _why_ the door was locked!), but these beasts hungered after foliage and could destroy half a garden in a single night. A setback was coming, and Pyro could sense it.

He didn't entirely know what to do about it, his instincts weren't _that_ good. All he really knew to do was just keep working on the potions, and also improve his cooking. Pyro was rapidly increasing his skill with chemistry, and discovering a new potion every day, as well as making a concoction he mixed into a drink to help brighten Sammi's day. He knew she was taking some mood hits from not having as much time to relax and have fun, and building a bigger garden that took longer to take care of, and now less time to sleep between gardening, fishing and work, and there wasn't a lot he could do, except water her plants when she didn't have time (he was afraid to weed them, for fear of accidentally pulling out the garden plant instead of the weed) and making her favorite breakfast on the nicest stove Sammi's money could buy (it really was a great stove, and every new recipe was easier to prepare with it).

Today's potion was a pale gray. Pyro's intention had been to concoct a potion to aid in sleeping, but he wasn't entirely sure what this was going to do once used. He decided to use it on himself before offering it to Sammi since he wasn't sure. He absolutely did _not_ want her to pass out on the floor.

Pyro drank the potion. He didn't exactly feel a lot different. He did sort of feel like maybe he could sleep through just about anything (including Kyo's incessant singing). So he went to bed to sleep for awhile. He woke up feeling quite rested, checked the time and was surprised by how little of it had passed. He felt like he'd been asleep all day, but it had only been a couple of hours.

Yes, that would do quite nicely as a drink before bed.

Well pleased with his discovery, Pyro paid simoleons into the pocket-closet-garage dimension to access the correct ingredients (instead of whatever random ones he could snatch out of it) and made another, mixing it into a drink and leaving that on the counter for Sammi to find tonight when she got home.

Then he settled onto the couch to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening reading cooking recipes. He took a break for a little while to watch _Pyrite Cuisinier._ He learned Fruit Parfait from it, which seemed completely delicious to him. He was eager to try it out. He hoped Sammi wouldn't be disappointed if he made it tomorrow. There were still leftover pancakes if she really didn't want the Parfait (though Pyro couldn't imagine who wouldn't want something that tasty looking).

"Sul sul!" Kyo, sitting on his perch, suddenly exclaimed.

Pyro knew that meant the parrot had heard the front door opening. Sammi was home. Pyro got up to greet her, but she looked exhausted. She'd stopped off to fish before coming home, but she was too tired to do anything with the catch.

Pyro decided to leave her alone, and went back to the TV. Kyo was excitedly flapping around the room, but Pyro knew Sammi wouldn't come in here tonight. She'd (hopefully) drink what Pyro had left on the counter and then tumble into bed for a good night's rest. Pyro decided he should do that as well.

Assuming it didn't freeze tonight, maybe he could water the plants in the morning so Sammi wouldn't have to do that as well as weeding them. He could probably even figure out how to harvest them without doing too much damage. With the nap this afternoon, Pyro was certain he could wake up before Sammi, even assuming she drank the sleeping elixir before bed.


	25. Frost

When Sammi woke up the next morning, there was frost on her window. Worried, she immediately went out to the garden. Nearly all the plants were frosted and dormant. That was frustrating. She had the skill to plant the unidentified special seeds in her inventory and to help the ones already in the ground to reach maturity, but now there would be no gardening, probably until spring.

She decided to check the weather on TV. She found Pyro already there, so they watched the report together. At or below freezing for the entire coming week. That meant more bad news, because all the lakes, ponds and rivers would be frozen. Only the ocean would be ice free, which seriously limited the places Sammi could go after work to fish. Tonight was also a full moon.

"We could get one of those indoor planter things," Sammi suggested, "I built my garden up too close to the property line for a fence, but we could have it indoors."

A wary look came onto Pyro's face and he said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? Lots of people probably have them. I was going to have a few when I was planning to move to a highrise," Sammi told him.

"Then it's probably a good thing you didn't get to do that," Pyro said cryptically.

"Pyro, what's the matter with you? You look like I just suggested we turn the future into a dystopia."

"It's not the future I'm worried about," Pyro replied, "It's the present."

"What do you mean?" Sammi was beginning to be genuinely concerned by the look in his eyes.

"Sammi, there are some things... I just know them. I don't know how, and sometimes they're not very clear. But... you just have to trust me, I have a sixth sense about some things."

"And what's it telling you now?" Sammi asked.

"It's not being very specific about it, but I have this... impression of the world itself halting forever in a chaotic feedback loop, and then spontaneously ceasing to exist."

"All from a few indoor planters?" Sammi tried not to laugh at the idea.

Pyro nodded, absolutely serious. Sammi wanted to scoff at the idea. But this was the same man who'd said he didn't fear fire, even though that had killed him. Visiting the fire station periodically before they had set upon this idea of making Ambrosia had awakened a latent desire to become a fire fighter. He hadn't said as much, but she knew from the way he talked about it that it was something he wanted. If the thing that had killed him didn't make him afraid, then she maybe ought to take seriously his fear of indoor planters, whatever reason he had for being terrified of them.

"Alright, so no indoor planters," Sammi agreed, and Pyro sighed in obvious relief, "It's not really practical to dig out frosted plants and move them, so what do we do?"

"Hope for the best," Pyro replied.

It wasn't an unreasonable strategy. Maybe the important plants were too small to attract any notice yet. There were plenty of expendable plants out there too, a couple of apple trees and a row of tomatoes and a bed of lettuce. Maybe the zombies would eat those instead.

In any case, it left Sammi with a lot of time that morning before she had to be at work. So the time wouldn't be wasted, Pyro changed the TV to a fishing channel. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, but it sure was entertaining and he could see that Sammi was paying close attention. He had all day to watch cooking programs while she was gone, though he intended to spend a lot of time at the chemistry station because he could practically taste the new discovery he was on the verge of making.

He did take a break for awhile to feed and talk with Kyo, who was feeling very much ignored. He tried playing, but Kyo was in a bad mood and bit him, so he put the parrot back on the perch and went back to watching television with Sammi.

Because of the great night's sleep Sammi had had, she'd gotten up very early. After awhile, she realized she should try to find a good fishing spot that wasn't frozen over, so she got up, dressed warm and went out in search of just such a spot while Pyro stayed home.

The closest place to work she could find that showed no signs of freezing was out past the Landgraab Marine Science Facility, on the eternally abandoned and unmarked pier, just beyond where she had once found the Spotted Sixam. The fish were really biting, but she wasn't exactly tickled to find a bunch of tragic clownfish when she'd been hoping for some nice herring.

While she was fishing, something odd caught in her hook and she had to reel it in and detach it. Somehow it seemed like the world was mocking her, because what she'd caught was a seed. A seed she obviously could not plant. She subconsciously felt the darkened gaze of the Grim Reaper on her. He was probably having a riotously good time watching her struggle with life's little difficulties. She still wasn't okay with Death itself thinking her life was but a joke.

Still, she wasn't so proud that she threw the seed back out to sea. Instead, she simply pocketed it and threw her lure back out into the water. She retrieved several more tragic clownfish, and then it was time to run all the way to work because she wasn't on a drivable road.

No doubt her fellow film industry workers were wondering why she was carrying a catch of fish in her back pocket, but they were all too afraid of her to ask. She was after all the highest paid director in the business, and everyone's boss. She had even managed to subdue the aging Matthew Hamming before he retired. She still didn't get on well with Emmy Starr, but the actress had lost some of her looks and much of her popularity and so she no longer dared challenge Sammi as a distinguished director, a title which came complete with special director's chair that had her name on the back of it.

In an odd twist of fate, casting and location scouting and so on had taken so long that Sammi was now the director of her own script. Not _Space Soup_ or _Space Soup II_ , but _Space Soup 3 pt. 1: Soup of the Evening_. With her new focus and mindset, she found the script trite and overly simplistic (not to mention being a total ripoff of _The Mold that Moved_ , a movie that wasn't even anything very special to begin with; but somehow she'd managed to make it worse), and she wished she had the time and energy for a rewrite, but she didn't. It was too late for that anyway.

Still, she could improve it by direction, and also making sure the movie had the best crew of any _Space Soup_ film. Sammi had met so many talented aspiring actors and cameramen and gaffers and sound technicians and... well, she'd met everyone. Long ago, when she was just a nobody, she had learned all these names, and now could look back and remember which of them had not only been talented, but also the sort of people she wanted to work with. What was more, they all still liked her, and that was always a plus trying to get somebody to work on your film.

Sammi was determined to do her best with _Soup of the Evening_ now, even if she'd really been phoning it in when she'd written the script (but how much money they'd been willing to pay her for it!). It also helped to throw herself into the work. That way, she didn't have to think about her frozen plants.

But they were the first thing she saw on getting home. The monsters had already been at them, and the night was just getting started. Steadfastly, she ignored the plants and continued into the house. Pyro was waiting for her and immediately grabbed her and gave her a huge kiss. Then he called her to dinner. The spaghetti was somehow extra good when she knew the ingredients had come from her own garden. Even better was knowing that someone had cared about her enough to make it for her.

The subtle display of bravado on the part of Pyro by making the dish someone had once used to kill him was also not lost on her.


	26. Grumpy

The end result of the full moon was devastating. Only about half the plants had been chewed up, but every special seed and a couple of apple trees had been completely demolished. Seeing all her hard work brought swiftly to ruin, Sammi cried. Rather than continue watching television while Sammi pulled up and threw away all her dead plants, Pyro got up and helped her. It took him awhile to get from garden to garbage, but it made fewer trips for Sammi.

They ate the leftovers, Pyro choosing the parfait while Sammi went for the pancakes. Then Sammi left at a jog, heading for the pier to get some fishing in before work. Pyro spent some time at the chemistry station, but the only thing he managed was to generate a puff of smoke. He then retreated to his room to work on finishing reading about the recipe he was learning about now.

Noticing Kyo had eaten most of his chop, Pyro decided to offer him some seeds to keep him occupied over the course of the afternoon. Pyro didn't want to have to get up, not when he was so close to finishing the cookbook he was reading. He hoped to finish it in time to turn on the television and watch _Pyrite Cuisinier_ , but maybe that wouldn't happen.

Kyo didn't seem interested in the seeds. Instead, he pecked at his indignant birb jingly dangle bell ball, and then -with a wild flap of his wings- spewed feathers everywhere. After that, he settled down to bob his head and chirp inanely for awhile. Pyro ignored him for the moment. After all, those feathers weren't going anywhere, Pyro could pick them up later.

And so the day went.

In the evening when Sammi came home, Pyro was startled to find a large owl-like creature perched on her shoulder. She seemed very excited about it, even though when she tried to show it off to him by playing with it the bird bit her. She set up a branch for it in her room and put in some food for it.

"What _is_ it?" Pyro asked.

"It's her!" Sammi told him, which explained nothing at all.

Unlike Kyo, this bird was a clear cut carnivore and eagerly began to devour the meat Sammi put in the bowl for it. It was far more exotic and colorful than Kyo, its upper body was a deep purple with blue tinge and white flecks; its lower body, face and underside of its wings were a shimmering white. But it was a bad tempered creature. After it ate, Sammi tried teaching it to talk, but it just harrumphed at her and then flew away to keep her from trying to play with it again.

"It's her!" Sammi announced again, as Pyro continued to regard it with skepticism.

"Well, _she's_ grumpy," Pyro observed, and then he went to bed.

"Grumpy?" Sammi said thoughtfully to the closed bedroom door, then looked at the bird, "Grumpy. Yes, that does suit you rather well, doesn't it?"

Grumpy spent the night chirping and flapping and carrying on, but Sammi slept right through it. In the morning, Grumpy was not even slightly better tempered. After refusing to talk to Sammi and then biting her again, Grumpy ate some breakfast and went to sleep.

Sammi didn't resent any of this, because Grumpy was the Spotted Sixam she'd sold away. Somehow, she had returned to the pier where Sammi found her. Somehow, Sammi had been given a second chance. The moment she saw her, Sammi knew she had to catch the Sixam again and do right by her this time. Grumpy was just grumpy because Sammi had betrayed her trust once. Sammi was sure Grumpy would warm up to her eventually, just as Kyo had.

Grumpy _did_ eventually consent to talk... to Pyro while Sammi was at work, but she didn't like to be handled and would invariably bite if he tried to play with her. She also liked to give him a hard time and fly away when he was trying to feed her. Grumpy's predilection for flight at feeding time made it a long process to get her fed. Still, Pyro had plenty of time to work on his chemistry skills before Sammi got back from fishing and work.

She was leaving earlier and earlier in the morning to fish before work, then dropping into bed almost as soon as she got back home. As a result, Sammi and Pyro weren't spending much time together, which was frustrating for the both of them.

And so fall progressed, and the days got colder, the nights got longer and all of Bridgeport seemed to get a little bit darker. Until, seemingly without warning, it was suddenly winter and the first snows were falling from the sky and turning the world white.

Sammi would get too cold to stay out and keep fishing. But she didn't want to go home. Why go all the way home when she'd just have to go to work again?

Of course, the nearest place to hang out was The Grind, but the dance club didn't open until after five and that was way too late. The only other place between the fishing spot and work was Waylon's Haunt.

The scruffy dive hadn't changed much, and still didn't open until eleven, but Sammi didn't find it quite as dismal as it used to be. Somehow, her view of it had changed, and the memories it held weren't quite as bad as before. Well... all except for one memory.

The lady of the night herself, Jessica Talon. The names and faces had changed from Sammi's childhood, but not her. Never her. Oh, the Lady Talon was looking just a little bit older, maybe a little more worn around the edges. But mostly she was looking... haunted.

Sammi had heard gossip that Jessica's boyfriend had left her as the result of the scandal which Sammi had deflected onto her. But Jessica wasn't exactly seeking friends in that bar, and it was difficult to be too sympathetic when she picked a fight with the first loser she could find.

The Lady Talon had seemed so sexy, so filled with raw power, so completely invulnerable to whatever the world dared throw at her. She had shared Sammi's dream, and her strength and skill at brawling as well as at the pool table were unsurpassed. And yet, here she was, still at the Haunt, now sans lover and friends, still just an army grunt despite all her skills. She was still nothing, still a nobody, and it was easy to see why. Any patron she wasn't brawling with, she was dropping flirty lines on.

How the mighty had failed to rise. So much for dreams.

It is easy when one is feeling low to go to the places one saw their parents go, and to fall into old habits long forgotten and abandoned. Sammi did not take up dumpster diving. There were no fights, no arguments, no brawls, no passing out on the living room floor. But Sammi was hardly ever home, even when she wasn't at work. On the weekends, she went to fish or else to the library (though sometimes to Waylon's Haunt for a drink at happy hour). Rather than eat at home, Sammi would pick up a snack from the ice cream or greasy food trucks.

It was just easier, more desirable, and more immediately lifted her mood. Especially when she got recognized and got things cheap or for free. That made her feel great, even if she got an ice cream headache afterward. And she was still fishing, getting better all the time.

She'd become focused lately, keeping her desires aimed at improving her fishing ability and also spending time at work. She could have changed jobs, started pursuing her life's dream, but she didn't want to rearrange her habits or schedule. She just couldn't be bothered. Instead, she kept count of each kind of fish she caught, and how big they all were, and constantly set new personal goals to catch more and bigger fish every day, leaving just enough room in her mind to want a nice drink at the bar after.

Pyro didn't pressure her. He kept himself at home except when he went out to buy a new recipe book. He also checked the consignment store, just in case a foreign cookbook came in. Other than that, he sat on the couch reading, watching television or napping. He kept caring for the birds and talking to them to keep both them and himself from getting too lonely. Sometimes, just to switch things up, he reread the book he'd brought with him into reality when he became human.

 _Do I Exist?_

And so winter came.


	27. This is Where the Fish Lives

People say a great many things about spring. About how wonderful it is. How the snow melts, and birds start to sing in the trees, and the warm rains come to revive the brown and frost bitten grasses, turning the world into a lush green wonderland. Well, that's not what it was like in Bridgeport.

Spring arrived without Sammi noticing. If Pyro noticed, he made no mention of having done so.

Like when Sammi and Pyro were growing up, the springs in Bridgeport were frigid and snowy. Winter was unwilling to release its iron grip on the land, and the rains were very often actually hail. It felt as if it was just going to be cold forever, only occasionally warming up just enough for the hail to turn into icy rain, in which case Sammi was be both wet _and_ cold while fishing. Besides which, she was inclined to run for cover at the first rumble of thunder. She knew that -should lightning strike her dead- the Grim Reaper would just come and laugh at her again, but that was something she would rather live (and eventually die!) without. One can only tolerate so much ridicule from Death itself, after all.

While out fishing during one of these slushy and unpleasant days that dared to call themselves spring, Sammi suddenly realized what she had to do in order to catch that elusive fish which was needed for the Ambrosia she and Pyro were attempting to make. The fish, she realized, lived in the graveyard (which she really should have expected, being as it was called the 'Death Fish'), but only neared the surface after midnight. Sammi really didn't want to go to the graveyard at night, especially not alone. But if she didn't go today, another cold snap could freeze the pond and she then she would be waiting for warmer days both for her garden _and_ her fish catching because she had now learned all anyone could ever know about fishing, so there really was no point in continuing to fish unless she was out to catch the Death Fish itself. She couldn't bear the thought of more wasted time.

Sammi sent a quick text to Pyro, letting him know she would be home very late. He texted her back that he would be waiting up. She didn't think anything of it at the time, she was too focused on getting ready to catch the almost supernaturally sneaky Death Fish. She knew it would be easier if she learned the bait for it, but she had a feeling that she could catch one without having that added advantage. Maybe it wouldn't be perfect, but Sammi had learned that sometimes you don't need something to be perfect in order for it to be good enough. This was especially true if good enough also happened to be the best that you could do. In this case, she knew that it was.

Pyro had waited for this fish (and for her) long enough.

Sammi drove almost right past the house to get to the graveyard. The graveyard was just up the hill from their home, surrounded by sheltering trees (another reason she'd been so set on moving. Up until Pyro had become one, Sammi hadn't been keen on the idea of having a ghost roaming her property). The graveyard was also spooky as the netherworld at night. The wrought iron fence surrounding it seemed to be trying to keep people out. Or perhaps, to keep _something_ in.

Sammi hesitated, shivering. Then, swallowing her fear, she forced herself to step foot onto the lot in what she imagined must be a bold manner (though it didn't feel very bold). To her right was the mausoleum, but she did not go inside. Instead, she walked past it to get to the small pond in which dwelled the nearly mythical fish. Of course, for it to be mythical, it would have to not actually exist. Fortunately, it was only almost a myth, like unicorns and mermaids.

A spooky fog was rolling across the pond, and a preternatural light shone from its center. Something large, black and decidedly similar in appearance to the Grim Reaper was lit from beneath. It paddled lazily around, sometimes dipping down and disappearing, before coming close to the surface again.

Screwing up what little courage she possessed, Sammi got out her fishing pole and threw in the hook and lure. She tried not to look around at the eerie graveyard, but looking at the water was no less upsetting. For really the first time, she understood exactly _why_ Kyo had declared the graveyard scary the moment he learned how to express the sentiment.

She had wondered how he could think it was a scary place. After all, there really wasn't anything dangerous about graveyard ghosts, and they never came out during the day anyway. It wasn't as if the Grim Reaper lived in the mausoleum or anything, and nobody had ever gotten mugged at a graveyard. In fact, the worst thing that had ever happened to Sammi in a graveyard was that the police had caught her there once when she was out after curfew as a teenager. But now she understood only too well what Kyo was scared of. It seemed like every time she understood something new, she wished she didn't.

The wind moaned low, and the fish seemed to get larger and more menacing with each passing minute. Even worse, it kept tugging at the lure, but then ducking away before getting hooked. With each pull, Sammi began to doubt more that she had the strength or skill necessary to pull such a monster from the water. But, as the minutes stretched to an hour, and then two, Sammi began to wonder if she could even tempt the fish to grab on. Maybe she shouldn't have skipped getting the right bait for this beast.

In a breathless moment, she thought she'd finally caught him, but when she reeled it in she found nothing but a really ugly, dead-looking flower caught on the hook. Sammi almost threw it away, but then she paused, taking a slightly closer look at it. Realizing what she had, she quickly pocketed the flower only Death could love and resumed her fishing.

Almost immediately, she felt a mighty yank on her pole. It was so powerful it almost pulled her off her feet and dragged her into the water. She braced herself to fight it, and hurriedly reeled in her catch. It was huge. It was black. But it was _not_ a Death Fish. Annoyed, she nonetheless kept the Vampire Fish, knowing it would fetch a good price if she sold it to the grocery.

It was then that the rain started. And not just rain. Thunder. Sammi was afraid of thunder, because she knew what was likely to happen to her if she stood around during a thunderstorm. But if Pyro wasn't going to let the risk of fire get to him, she wouldn't let the thunder drive her away either.

Sammi was soaked in just a few minutes. She was also getting cold. But she stuck with it, determined not to let a little weather get to her. This was worth the risk. And anyway, surely the fish couldn't just avoid her forever. Not with her bringing all her now considerable expertise to this fight. The fish couldn't just keep on ignoring her. It couldn't-

And then, as if by magic, she had hold of it. Its power was immense, and she was unprepared for the tremendous pull of it. It dragged her until her feet were in the water, but she quickly scrambled back without losing it. It splashed, breaching the surface. Its sleek black body was far different than she'd expected. It was big, yes. But nowhere near the size it had seemed when it was under the surface. It was extremely strong, but not as terrifying as she'd anticipated once she finally had it on the hook. Reeling it in wasn't as hard on the nerves as she'd thought it would be either.

And then she had it in her hand. It was large, and had a very unhappy expression on its face. It looked like it had been born the most miserable creature in the world. But, most of all, it looked very much like a very large, black dishrag with fines. She was tempted to throw it back.

But then she remembered how terrible it had been for the Grim Reaper to laugh and bring her back after she'd gone through the horror of being struck by lightning and killed. She had already hooked this fish, ripped it from its watery home and effectively sentenced it to death.

And besides, even aside from any moralizing on her part, she needed this... err... thing.

As she put the Death Fish in with the flower and the Vampire Fish, Sammi looked up to see that the sky was getting lighter. The rain was dying down, and the dawn had come.

A new day was on the way.


	28. Love Day

**Part 7: Defying Description**

" _The only moral it is possible to draw from this story is that one should never throw the Q letter into a privet bush, but unfortunately there are times when it is unavoidable." -_ _ **The Restaurant at the End of the Universe**_ **(Douglas Adams)**

* * *

Most people probably wouldn't find a midnight black fish that looked more like a worn-out dishrag than any kind of animal dredged up out of a small, scum-infested pond in a graveyard in the middle of a thunderstorm at night a terribly romantic gift to be given on Love Day. Pyro was not at all like most people, and he was truly very happy to have a dead Death Fish in his pocket.

He reciprocated by offering Sammi a beaker with some extremely pale pink liquid in it. Heretofore, Pyro had never handed her any of his concoctions. He'd just made them, then mixed them into a mysterious drink. This time he wasn't being secretive, and Sammi knew enough about chemistry to know exactly what the potion she was holding would do if she drank it.

"Pyro..."

"Just take it, Sammi," he smiled at her crookedly, and she accepted the gift.

Pyro had asked her to give up the limitless future she had for him. Now, in this little glass container, he had offered it back to her. He could have kept it to himself, for himself. While Sammi's youth had been prolonged by her stint as a vampiress, Pyro had continued aging normally. She hadn't noticed until now, but he was not so young anymore. She was only approaching full maturity, but Pyro had already blown past his midlife crisis before that party she'd thrown which had begun all of this.

She didn't know how to respond to such a gift. So she gave him a death flower.

"I know it seems sort of tasteless," she said, speaking quickly, "since you're already dead. But it's for when you're properly alive again. The Grim Reaper will take that ugly flower instead of your life. I mean, you want to be a firefighter, and so you might catch fire again and... well... if Grim doesn't want me before my time, then he certainly can't have you either. And, well..." she floundered.

"Sammi, you never have to explain anything to me," he said, smiling slightly, "It's okay. I understand."

"You always understand," Sammi told him.

She was surprised by the worry her remark seemed to generate in his face.

"What?" She asked, "What is it?"

"Sammi... I," he paused, unsure as she'd ever seen him, "Am I real?"

"Of course you are," Sammi said, hoping that was the end of it, but he still held back from her.

"But... I'm nothing but a Gary Stu."

"Why, Pyro, have you been studying writing?" Sammi asked.

"No," Pyro answered, "But I've read some of your notes. I know what a Gary Stu is. Nothing bad ever really does anything to me, I pick up new skills so quickly, and you love me so easily. And..."

Sammi put her hand over his mouth to stop him and then withdrawing it when he was silent, "Pyro, what makes a Gary Stu is a lot more complicated than that."

"Is it?" Pyro asked.

Pyro was the first character Sammi had ever created, from a time when she was innocent and saw the best in everyone and everything, and she didn't even realize at the time that she was creating anything. Maybe he _was_ a Gary Stu, certainly she would never dream of writing such a character as Pyro now. But how could she explain to him, reassure him, convince him that wasn't really what mattered to her?

"If you _are_ a Gary Stu," Sammi said after a moment's thought, "You're still _my_ Gary Stu. A beautiful dream I didn't even realize I wanted to be true until it was. Just because nobody would believe you're real, it doesn't mean you're not. People believe a lot of things that aren't true, and disbelieve a lot of things that are."

"You don't think you'll get bored of me?" Pyro asked worriedly, "I'll never be as exciting as someone you didn't create out of your own imagination. Someone real."

"Pyro," Sammi said patiently, "I've read every mind in Bridgeport at least once. Trust me, there's no one who excites me more than you. And there never will be. Pyro, you are real. I'll prove it."

On that note, she leaped into his arms. He was ready to catch her. He was always ready to catch her.

"There, now could you have done that if you weren't real?" She asked, nuzzling his nose with hers, "Pyro, you're real enough to me. You always were, even though I didn't always realize it."

When he put her down, he kissed her shyly and then embraced her. While she was still reeling from the sudden burst of affection, Pyro stepped back, knelt down and held up a black box. She knew what it was before he opened it, but she didn't quite let herself believe it until he opened the box.

Seeing the shining engagement ring, Sammi squealed and put it on, then lunged back into Pyro's arms for another hug, and then a lingering kiss. She'd almost forgotten that they were going steady, because they had spent so little time together, and because so much had happened. She couldn't even remember if they'd started going steady before or after the fire. She promised herself never to let their bond fade into the background again. Not when Pyro was giving her everything he had.

Including his limited time. She stepped back, concerned.

"Pyro, how much time did you spend on those potions? You could have spent that time on yourself, improving your cooking skill. Netherworld, you would have been better off making a safety net by improving your fishing or gardening ability. What if I'd lost interest? What if I hadn't succeeded in holding up my end of this? How could you just trust me? How could you risk staying a ghost forever just for me?"

"I am for you, Sammi," was his simple answer, "I always was."

At last she understood. Pyro was born of her love, and her loneliness. He had come into being because she needed a friend, needed affection, needed someone who would love her forever no matter what, who would always think of her instead of themselves. _That_ was what she had brought to life.

Doubt crept in, and she began to shake her head.

"Pyro, I'm not worth loving. Not like this. I've already taken advantage of you, thrown you out of this very house, abandoned and ignored you. I'll never be-" she broke off as he used his hands to cover hers, stopping her from removing the ring she'd put on.

"You are worth it to me. _I_ want this. And now I know _you_ want this too."

Swallowing hard, trying not to cry, Sammi looked at his hands over hers, and nodded. He let go of her hands. She flung herself into his arms again, and he spun her and planted a dip kiss on her lips. She wanted to take him to bed then and there, but there were a few problems with that. Not the least of which was the fact that neither of them had a double bed.

She wished they at least had a tree-house. Not the most comfortable place for a WooHoo, especially their first, but she wanted... she wanted... the shower. They could do it in the shower!

But after spinning her back to her feet, Pyro had other ideas. He had prepared fresh pancakes which he'd kept warm for her. Reluctantly, Sammi followed him to the counter and got a plate of pancakes. It was as she was eating them that it began to hit her that she hadn't slept all night, and was exhausted.

Even as she struggled to stay awake, something else came to her.

This was Love Day. It was the first time she'd ever taken notice of the day, though it had passed however many times. She had just ignored it. Until now. Pyro had timed his proposal perfectly, waiting for the day when she just wouldn't hardly be able to say no.

A Gary Stu, perhaps. But a sneaky one. Where had he learned that?

Sammi was too tired to figure it out. After breakfast, she gave Pyro another kiss and then staggered off to bed, where she promptly fell asleep. Pyro followed her in, watched her for a long moment, and then turned around to find Grumpy watching him intently.

"Glorven," said Grumpy, "GLOR- ven."

Pyro ignored her and went out to check the mail. There were about a gazillion love letters for Sammi, because Sammi was a star. Pyro sincerely hoped that she would ignore them all. He knew she'd turned down countless suitors before, even when he and she hadn't been together.

He had always hoped she would love him back, as he had always adored her. He knew he'd been a bit awkward when they were young, following her absolutely everywhere, and constantly asking to pillow fight with her. But, at the time, it was all he knew how to do. It was the only way he could try to convey to her that he wanted to be with her forever, no matter what.

If only she could feel that way about him, his life could be just about perfect.

And now, at last... it seemed that she did.


	29. The Soupening

Sammi woke up later in the day, not quite believing she hadn't dreamed everything. But she was still wearing the ring, and was still carrying the potion Pyro had given her. She decided to put it on the nightstand next to her bed. She wasn't going to drink it, at least not yet.

She was on the verge of being old enough for a mid-life crisis, but she wasn't inclined to run from that. Besides, she had the beginnings of an idea. But first, she should tend to her garden now that it was finally warm enough. When she got out there, the plants didn't need watering.

In fact, they didn't seem to need anything. Had Pyro been upping his gardening game too? Just what had he been doing at home all day when she'd thought he was learning to cook?

With summer coming and half the ingredients in the bag, Sammi decided to take some unpaid time off. She could afford to take a week off now, and she wanted to do that so she could focus on her plants. And spend more time with Pyro. Yes, that was also important. She particularly needed to keep an eye on him to make sure he was improving his cooking instead of getting more creative ideas.

Sammi planted the seeds she'd kept in her pocket all winter, and fertilized them with some very nice fish. Then she went inside to find Pyro. She located him in front of the television.

She sat down on the couch next to him, but couldn't keep her mind on the TV. It wasn't long before they were cuddling, then kissing, and then finally making out on the couch. Pyro did not resist at all. She was surprised to find that his ghostliness no longer repulsed her. In fact... well, it was kind of a turn on to hear the soft echo of his voice when he spoke to her, to feel that smooth coolness of phantom form beneath her. Maybe that was weird, but she no longer cared if she was weird.

She had left normal behind long before she'd even realized there was such a thing. She had lived alone in a house as a teenager, paying the bills with rocks she found in the local parks. She had become a powerful vampiress outside a dive bar. She had entered the movie profession with the intention of becoming an actress, only to turn around and become one of the most famous directors of her time. She had made her imaginary friend real, and then fallen in love with him. Now he was a ghost, but together they were going to bring him back to life. Oh, and she was human again.

Weird was just another word she knew, like ataraxia, psithurism and kismet.

What she _did_ care about was the fact that, no sooner had they gotten really into it than a paparazzi reporter was peeping in through the windows that she and Pyro had picked out to replace the garage door that had been on that wall before. She started to get up to do something about it, but Pyro wordlessly pulled her back. This time he was on top of her on the couch. She decided she didn't care about the peeper. It wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong. After all, this was her fiance, and this was their home and it was still Love Day. Who could find fault with a little making out on the couch?

Then heard Kyo whistling 'Successfully Pregnant'. That killed the mood somewhat. Sammi wasn't ready for _that_ commitment. And she didn't want a ghost baby, not when she'd seen how difficult and painful being a ghost was for Pyro. She wanted children, but not the ghostly kind and not yet.

They started watching television again, but Sammi couldn't sit still. She'd just had a fabulous idea about what she could do with her time while Pyro studied cooking. Giving him a quick kiss, she dashed off to the library to do some reading. Pyro hardly noticed her go, because he was now thinking about something else. And worrying about it a little. Life fruit. It took a long time to grow, he'd seen that last year. Considering how cold the weather in Bridgeport often was, possibly too long.

Especially seeing as none of the plants from last summer had produced any fruit. They hadn't so much as grown weeds today. Pyro sensed more than knew what that meant. It meant they might have become frozen forever. Even though it was warm, they might never bear fruit again. That meant those special plants that were grown might not do them any good. Pyro was disturbed by it, and briefly tried to consider getting planters to protect this year's crop. But he got the same white walled feeling, that he was being blocked from considering the idea too hard. He also got that same sense of potential doom. There had to be another way.

He kept watching television.

Sammi, meanwhile, was tracking down every sci-fi book on the shelves of the library, and reading them one after the other. Sometime late in the afternoon, Sammi decided to check the movie listings in the theaters. _Starship: Incredulous_ had just come out. Sammi rushed home, dragged Pyro off the sofa and hauled him off to the theater to watch the movie.

Pyro didn't seem upset by this and didn't even ask where they were going or why, though he did not share her enthusiasm for the movie once they arrived. Afterward, they stopped and had dinner at the restaurant side of Steve's Business (the food quality had improved somewhat since Sammi had been there last).

Sammi was recognized at both places and got free theater tickets and also free food. In fact, the restaurant was so excited to see her (and relieved at her kindness and understanding concerning a clumsy busboy they had recently employed) that they sent her home with a baked angel food cake that gave her the warm fuzzies just looking at it. She was too full to eat a piece that night, but she put it in the fridge for tomorrow.

It was clear by then that Pyro was getting very sleepy. She released him to go to bed. But she had some work to do. She was so busy with it that she barely even realized that had been the first real date she had been on with Pyro. It had been great, and the mood boost really sent her into action.

She intended to spend a bit of time at the chemistry lab station herself. She'd never discovered all the potions, and the one sitting on her nightstand gave her motivation to try and finish what she'd started. She didn't want to be young again if she couldn't have Pyro with her. But first, to the computer and desk which were now parked in the former living room to get some writing done.

She had written _Space Soup_ for the movies, but now she wanted to write novel versions. It seemed like the perfect way to spend her time while waiting for the garden to do its thing.

She also needed to refresh her memory on the world and characters she had created before going for the big finale. _Space Soup_ was meant to be a lone script, but after the first she had written them to be a series that could just go on forever if she wanted. But now she knew the story needed an end.

She needed to finish her old life before she could move ahead into her new one. She needed to write the script for the final installment of _Soup_. But first, she had to figure out what it was really about.

To that end, she had ordered the stu surprise at Steve's Business for inspiration purposes. This last _Space Soup_ story would be different than the others. This time... this time she was going to do something that she'd never done before. She was going to put her heart into it.

Even if it was the least successful of any _Soup_ movie before it, Sammi would be satisfied because she was finishing what she'd started so long ago, and this time she was going to give it her best. Whatever the consequences of it, her best would have to be enough, because it was all she had.

Somewhere in her mind, she knew that Pyro had somehow taught her that.


	30. Waiting for Ambrosia

While Sammi had been building her status as a celebrity, working her way up the ranks of the film industry and making waves as a hot new vampiress, Pyro had been out on his own, discovering the world for the first time. He was naturally drawn to strange things, so when he found a property without an owner which had a big sparkling... well it looked like an upside down claw for a claw machine, or possibly a holder for the world's biggest egg... naturally he investigated it. And discovered it was a portal to the future. He had hung out in the future for awhile, and seen some amazing things.

But -up until now- the most important thing he'd taken from the experience had been forgotten. He had seen robots and mechanical bugs and fallen space craft and crystal-based plants with glowing leaves and he'd even learned to ride on a hover board (which he had unfortunately left in the future). But, most importantly, he had learned the secret to indoor gardening.

Soil rugs.

Sammi looked up from writing one afternoon to see that Pyro seemed to be putting grass in the living room. She didn't question it, nor ask why he was moving the smaller, still unidentified plants indoors. She just watched him work, even as he was knocking out a large section of wall and putting in a giant window that just didn't quite fit with the aesthetics of the house.

Pausing in her writing, she went to look at the new objects.

"That's great, Pyro," she said, politely expressing her excitement.

"I only wish I'd thought of it before I asked you to give up vampirism," Pyro remarked dryly.

"Oh, dear," Sammi reached out to hold his hands and he let her, "I don't need to be a vampiress. I don't even want to live that long anymore. Why I did it was sort of stupid anyway."

"I don't believe that," Pyro told her, "You had your reasons."

"And my reasons were selfish and short-sighted. And besides, it turns out the only reason Jessica turned me was so she could stab me in the back by drowning me in vampire-related rumors," she replied, "All I want now is to live as long as you do. I don't want to outlive you."

"I'm a lot older than you now, Sammi," Pyro pointed out.

"Don't you worry about that, Fireheart," Sammi said, stroking his cheek, "I've got an idea about that."

"If I were less of a man, I'd find it offensive you'd give me that nickname."

"You're the killed by fire ghost who wants to be a firefighter, dear," Sammi reminded him, then gave him a quick kiss before reluctantly returning to her writing.

Only later, when the seasons changed and the cold winds blew, would she really get what Pyro had done all of that remodeling for. For now, she just went back to writing, making a mental note of the odd behavior and construction. After all, having an indoor garden on some grassy rugs seemed well suited to science fiction, even if she had just seen it in reality.

Pyro then resumed reading his cookbooks. He was very nearly as educated as he could be about cooking. It was just a matter of growing some of the right fruit now. He didn't have any other plans really. He'd once dreamed of somehow inventing the first SimBot out of found scrap, maybe even making three of them. But his dreams, as Sammi had just noted, had changed. He wanted to become something or someone different once he was alive again. He didn't want to completely change, because he didn't want to become someone who didn't love Sammi as he did now, but he felt that what he was now just wasn't quite what he wanted to be.

Meanwhile, as Sammi wrote, she began to realize that the characters of _Space Soup_ weren't quite as fictional as she'd always imagined. As she used the novel format to add back-story and secret thoughts to the formerly flat characters, she found herself reliving the times of her life that had been going on when she wrote the originals, and seeing all the people she knew cast in the roles of heroes and villains, the situations that were so ordinary thinly disguised in techno-babble and alien encounters.

And she realized what her stories had lacked up to now. Only one of her 'characters' had ever been granted the freedom necessary to become truly alive. She couldn't make any of these characters real, not as she had Pyro, but she had to give them enough of herself to breathe life into them.

Only once the story and its characters were set free to do as they pleased would she finally have hope of finding the ending for this never ending story. She knew that the final installment might not turn out to be what she had expected or hoped for, but it would be _the_ ending nonetheless. Whether it was right in the end was of less import than the fact that she was going to finish what she had started so long ago, and that she was giving it her best to the end this time.

And so the days passed, and the plants began to grow. There is very little one can say about watching television, writing novels or watching plants grow. None of these things are especially interesting to people not experiencing them. What is perhaps worth describing is that Pyro and Sammi continued to interact romantically on a regular basis, but they never did make it into the shower, nor did they get a double bed. There were a lot of reasons for that, but the most important one was that what they really wanted now was to be married. But there wasn't any time for that kind of thing, not with all that they were trying to accomplish just now. Especially not knowing how guests would react to the sight of the ghostly groom. No, that would have to wait for the Ambrosia.

In less time than she expected, Sammi had written the novels for _Space Soup_ and _Space Soup II: Not Your Momma's Bouillabaisse_. Because it was really one story with a cliffhanger written into its middle, Sammi decided to combine _Soup of the Evening_ and _Beautiful Soup_ into one massive tome. It was split into two parts, but sold as a single novel which she entitled _Space Soup III: The Soup in Our Soup_.

Before working on the fourth and final installment of _Space Soup_ , Sammi took a break to learn some chemistry. She was still working on that one morning at the end of the fall when a glowing in the corner of her eye caught her attention. At first she mistook it for fire, and she whirled to look at it.

But it wasn't fire. It was the fruits of her labors. The indoor garden was ready for harvesting. It was beautiful. There were three life fruit plants, a flame fruit bush and even a death flower. Sammi would never need a death flower for herself, but she immediately had the beginnings of a lovely romantic novel idea, _Death Flower for Two_ would be its name. But first thing was first.

Sammi had never worked on her garden with more fervor. She finished harvesting in record time, and then ran into Pyro's room. He was asleep, but she couldn't wait and woke him up. He blinked sleepily at her, seeming just a bit annoyed. But then she handed him the life fruit.

 _That_ woke him up good. Springing out of bed, he swept her into a fierce hug. He then kissed her repeatedly, in as many ways as he seemed able to think of. She finally had to push him off and pretend to be interested in playing with Kyo to get him to stop.

Only then did he hurry off to the kitchen to begin preparing the most important meal of his life.


	31. Glorven

Sammi was nervous. She tried watching Pyro cook, but she couldn't bear the anticipation. She also couldn't stand looking at the two main ingredients as they sat on opposite sides of the cutting board. One looked so delectable, but the other looked absolutely toxic. Putting them together seemed like a huge mistake, even bigger than the mistake one could order from the bar at Waylon's Haunt.

Sammi tried to work on her chemistry, but that literally blew up in her face, and she had to go shower.

Meanwhile, Pyro was expertly chopping, seasoning, chopping again, and mixing. Then the whole thing was poured into a pan it almost overflowed and loaded into the oven. Pyro was wiser than to take his eyes off of it for so much as a second, and frequently checked to make sure it was cooking properly.

When it was done, he took it from the oven, produced a plate from the cupboard of the pocket-closet-garage dimension and poured the whole thing onto it. He set the plate down and sort of looked at it. It seemed... well... so ordinary. It looked just the way any other dish would.

Pyro didn't know what he'd really been expecting. Something... amazing. It just looked like a really ugly slice of cake with a piece of fried fruit squelching dispassionately next to it.

By then, Sammi had finished her quick shower and came out to see Pyro just staring at the results of all their time and effort. She came up behind him and gave him a kiss. Nothing special, just a kiss, followed by a quick hug. She briefly held his hands in hers. And then she stepped back.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Pyro picked up the plate and went to the table to eat. Sammi sat down across from him, trying not to stare too intently. Each bite seemed like it should be doing something. But nothing was happening. No sparkles, no tingling. They were both terrified. Pyro was so nervous he almost choked. Something should be happening, shouldn't it? Surely they hadn't done all of that for nothing? Surely the rumors they'd heard about the power of Ambrosia weren't just that?

Then Sammi noticed the faint rainbow that appeared to dance around the plate, and follow the fork up to Pyro's mouth with every bite. And she began to feel hopeful again. No other meal -no matter how good the cook or perfect the ingredients- would ever have the power to make a rainbow. Surely... _surely_...

She bit her lower lip and said nothing, afraid the hope such a remark might offer would be dashed.

Pyro finished the food without incident. He looked wearily at Sammi. All they'd gone through the last few seasons... for their whole lives... all of it was for this. For _nothing_. For the first time, Pyro looked hurt, angry, disappointed... discouraged.

"Pyro-" Sammi began gently, but he interrupted her.

"It's over, Sammi," he said, "That was it. I'm stuck like this."

"Pyro, it's okay. We'll be okay-"

He pushed back from the table and stood abruptly. Sammi started to get up and try to comfort him. But then he made a strange sound, one she'd never heard before. As he was floating there, Sammi saw that the hints of rainbow she'd noticed on the food were now all around him, just barely visible.

He was no longer looking at her, but looking upward. The look in his eyes suggested he was seeing something up there that he had never seen before. Sammi glanced up, but saw only the ceiling. Pyro was smiling though, at something or someone she could not see. It was only for a moment, and then the rainbow became brighter, more vibrant, its colors so strong Sammi felt she could just reach out and touch them. It was over in an instant. The rainbow vanished, and Pyro fell out of the air, his feet hitting the floor with a soft thump. Pyro wasn't floating anymore, he was standing. He wasn't transparent anymore either. He wasn't imaginary, he wasn't invisible, and he wasn't dead or undead. Pyro was real... and alive!

Expressions of shock, relief and complete surprise jostled for position on his face as he looked at his hands, his arms, his legs. He touched his face, and it seemed to come home to him. He began to do the stupidest, most wonderful little dance Sammi had ever seen. She laughed and leaped towards him.

He was ready for her and dropped her across his knee so that she was facing upwards, then he leaned down to kiss her while she held one leg out for balance. He let her up too soon, and she toppled forward into him, giving him a kiss and then leaping into his arms.

"Screw the archway with its fluttering hearts," Sammi whispered, "and the audience with its applause."

"I haven't got any friends I'd invite anyway," Pyro replied, setting her down on the floor.

They were getting married right here, right now, in this living room with its cheap furniture and futuristic garden and chemistry station. Wolf whistles and the excited voices of the birds came from the two bedrooms as Sammi and Pyro exchanged wedding rings, making it official.

"Two bedrooms?" Sammi said aloud, "That will never do."

"Certainly not," Pyro replied.

It was time to move Grumpy in with Kyo, get rid of the two single beds and replace them with the most expensive double they could afford. Scratch that, Sammi had once been given a double bed. It was still in storage, but they had no trouble getting it out and putting the other two beds in. They did have a bit of trouble stopping their hugging and kissing for long enough to make it into the bedroom.

Once there, they didn't stop for anything. Forget the cuddling and making out. They just looked at each other, grinned giddily, and threw the sheets over their heads. Pillows got kicked into the air, the sheets seemed almost ready to fly south for the winter, and somehow neither of them could stop laughing at the sound of Grumpy shouting "GLORBVEN!" and Kyo correcting her with "GLOR-VEN!" through the walls.

And then after, when the birds had gone quiet, they just lay there, looking at each other. In that moment, if no other before it, everything... well it defied description. Pyro held Sammi's hand gently in his, and she felt heat radiate from him, proof of his life, of his reality. And then he smiled.

"Sammi?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied dreamily gazing into his eyes.

"Would you like to pillow fight with me?"

"Pyro, I would _love_ to pillow fight with you."

And so they did.

* * *

 _An unspecified amount of time later..._

They were walking side by each into the movie theater, a special secret between them. The big sign above the theater doors read 'Opening Night for Sammi Pyle's _Space Soup IV: Or Salad_ '. The crowd was a big one, and Sammi recognized almost every face. Just as they were about to enter, Sammi saw a particular face. She let go of Pyro's hand and hurried to meet this person.

Armstrong Diesel was looking a little older, a little frailer, and not nearly so well-muscled as all those seasons ago when he had let Sammi go after she sneaked into the club where he was working as a bouncer. It was well known that the famous Sammi Pyle never granted autographs. But, as the crowd parted and watched in awe and the paparazzi gleefully snapped their pictures, Sammi signed an autograph for this one person among them all. They all wanted autographs after that, but Sammi smoothly brushed everyone aside as she returned to where Pyro was waiting.

It was headline news that she had quit her job at the film studio the day before, and everyone was sure that this would be the last film ever scripted or directed by her. It probably would be. She was done pursuing the dreams her mother had put before her, and finished pretending she could complete the dreams of Alan Stanley. It was time to chase her own dreams, to start a life of her own.

Correction, a life of _their_ own. She was never leaving Pyro out of her life again.

In the theater, she snuggled her head against his shoulder, and whispered gently in his ear about the future. They were going to college together, she to get her technology degree and he to get a good physical education. But first, they were going to leave this town behind. They were going to move to a quiet little burg known as Riverview, where life was a little slower, and Sammi's name wouldn't be so well known. Pyro said he wanted to protect a whole town's worth of people from burning to death because he could imagine nothing worse than dying in a fire. Grumpy had been released back into the wild where she belonged. But this was no place for an African Grey, and Kyo was clearly hand-raised anyway. He would be coming with them, to share in the future adventures of their lives.

Sammi meant to pursue her life's dream at last, and maybe in her spare time write that little romance story she'd had an idea for awhile back. But they both knew that this was only the beginning of their life together. Back home tonight, they would toast their last evening in Bridgeport and drink the mysterious drinks they had mixed the young again potions into.

They didn't intend to become immortal, but they wanted more time together, more time to build their dreams, and their family. They wanted a family, a big one, with lots of kids who would all have their own traits and dreams and aspirations, and who knew where that might lead?

But one thing they did know was this: they were going to face it all -good or bad- together. Just friendly, lucky Sammi and her own personal (completely real and fully alive) Gary Stu, Pyro. Together for the rest of their lives, natural or otherwise.

For you, dear reader, the story ends here. At least for now. But for Sammi and Pyro, the story was far from the far from over. Because stories never really end. Not the real ones anyway. They go on forever. But, at some point, one simply must stop telling them. The time has come for you to bid Sammi and Pyro farewell, and for me to say thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and goodnight everybody.


End file.
